Paradigm
by artistic mishap
Summary: A strange explosion rocks the Presidium, and the woman found in the epicenter sends shockwaves ripping through the galaxy. With the recently acquired Prothean beacon slowly killing her, Shepard knows this woman is the key to defeating the Reapers. She knows, because this woman claims the impossible: that she's also Commander Shepard.
1. One

"_To die, to sleep –_

_To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub,_

_For in this sleep of death, what dreams may come..."_

**William Shakespeare, **_**Hamlet**_

The pain surrounded and penetrated her whole world. She stared at the vision before her, the destruction of an entire galaxy, and she wanted to weep away her soul. This, this was what she was up against. She longed for the days when she was new to special ops, hunting terrorists and war criminals – tame prey, by comparison.

She hadn't asked for this. Hadn't wanted this. If only she hadn't touched that stupid beacon back on Eden Prime…

Logically, she knew that if she had to do it all over again, she would. That the beacon had given them precious knowledge. That they would never have even heard about the Reapers if not for it. But as the edges of inky night threatened to swallow the whole of her vision and every nerve in her body screeched with pain, Shepard allowed herself for the first time to regret.

And then… then everything went dark.

**000**

Somebody had shoved a bowling ball into his gut when he wasn't looking. It took a sincere effort to will his body forward, especially when all he got from the staff were contained, anxious glances before they shuffled off in search of better news. When even the nurses didn't want to talk to you, well, that wasn't a sign of good things.

Anderson tried to focus, tried to strategize his way out of this one, only he never got further than Shepard's name. God, she'd been such a small thing when she first entered basic. Her instructor had been a friend of his, and had bet twenty credits the girl wouldn't last the first month. Anderson hadn't been so sure. Though skinny and pale, there was a fierce light in those dark eyes that made him a believer. He'd taken the bet. Never had twenty credits been so rewarding.

And now… now there was a very real possibility that even though that wiry young woman had proven herself, she wasn't going to get to enjoy it.

Karin was waiting for him outside the hospital room, one shoulder pressed against the wall. The doctor was normally impeccable, but today her uniform hung unbuttoned and her hair unbrushed. If there were a bowling ball in his belly, she had anvils strapped to her arms. Still, she managed to unearth the ruin of a smile at his approach.

"Captain Anderson," she said, "it's good to see you. I just wish it were under more pleasant circumstances." A spark of emotion erupted on her face and then was gone.

Four tours together gave him a fairly comprehensive understanding of Karin Chakwas' moods. She felt guilty, but more than that, she was doing something Anderson had only seen once: second guessing herself. "How long?"

With a sigh, she managed a mangled shrug. "Since the beginning. After Eden Prime, her brain scans were odd but not abnormal. Everything said that it was probably that vision of hers – dreaming, in other words." Karin's frown got deeper and deeper. "Then she had a few misplaced nosebleeds, a few migraines. Again, nothing abnormal when you consider what she's been up against for the past while."

He almost didn't want to ask. "So what changed?"

"From what I understand, she was given another piece of data related to her original vision," said Karin. "A missing puzzle piece, if you will, that would add context to the rest. She collapsed, and her squad had to carry her back to the _Normandy_." Karin took a deep breath. "I ran as many scans as I was able on the journey, and they've run more still here. She has a severe intraparenchymal hemorrhage – bleeding within the brain. She's just returned from surgery."

Anderson ran a hand over his jaw and gently pushed past Karin to stand in the doorway. Shepard's head was all bandaged up, her golden hair completely covered. She breathed shallowly within the confines of her narrow bed, the sound filling up the room like an air pump hooked up to a balloon. "So she's going to live then?"

The pause was slightly too long to be comforting, but it was telling. Karin was studying her shoes. "In theory, with proper care she should be able to make a full recovery. It won't be quick or easy, but she'll live."

With a sigh, he said, "Why do I sense a _but_ coming?"

"Her brain activity is off the charts, Captain. Normally, you'd only see readouts like this on patients doped up on hallucinogenics. Truth be told, though we know it's her vision prompting this response, we have no idea how to stop the symptoms from reoccurring. Couple this with her implants and…"

Anderson surged with annoyance and it was only through several deep breaths that he managed to stuff it back down. "What you're saying is, you don't know."

"I don't know," agreed Karin, crossing her arms and staring at Shepard.

"Shit," said Anderson. It was bad enough that Shepard, his friend, was lying in a bed after having gone through brain surgery, but he also had to think of the possible political ramifications of what her death would mean. Humankind's first Spectre, Hero of Elysium, and she might die before the completion of her first assignment. And that… that brought with it a whole slew of other concerns. If Saren wasn't stopped, he would lead his geth followers out of the Traverse and humanity would be under attack. Worse, if Shepard's vision proved true, Saren and the geth would be the least of their concerns.

In the weeks since he'd come to the Citadel, he'd seen enough of the politics to know that this was going to end badly. The Council races liked to weave nice, diplomatic sentences together, but it was an open secret that they'd elected Shepard to Spectre status as a means of shoving a particularly smelly mess under the rug. Without Shepard, as beautifully stubborn as she was, all efforts to stop Saren might continue on in name only.

Worse yet for Udina, the Council might decide that they'd given humanity sufficient standing with even one human Spectre, never mind the fact that the woman in question died.

She wasn't even dead yet, and Anderson was already considering the interspecies fallout following her demise. It reminded him of when his mother died a few years back, and how he'd had to settle her affairs before she'd even passed.

"Will she wake up?" he asked.

"We'll know in a few hours."

He hoped she did. He hoped she got back on her feet with her trademark smile and good humour. He hoped that, failing that, he'd at least get to look into her eyes and say goodbye.

He'd nearly made up his mind to stay with her for however long it took when his omni-tool beeped. Drawing up his messages, he read one from Executor Palin that said, _I have something headed your way that you're going to want to see…_

**000**

Kaidan drummed his fingers along his knees, watching the seconds count up on the digital clock in the hospital lobby. It had been six hours since Shepard was admitted, and except for four trips to the coffee dispenser and two to the men's room, he hadn't moved from his chair. He wanted desperately for Shepard to walk through that door and tell him that she was going to be fine.

Most of all, though, he didn't want her _not_ to be fine, not with all the things he hadn't mustered up the guts to say yet. He was an idiot, and he knew it. You just weren't supposed to be attracted to your commanding officer, and you definitely weren't supposed to start getting friendly with her. But he couldn't help it. She was kind, and she listened to him earnestly and with an understanding that surprised him. And her laugh, God.

He wondered if he would ever hear it again and the room suddenly felt like someone had open all the airlocks and vented the room into empty space. Closing his eyes, all he could see was the way she'd collapsed after that asari had given her the cipher mind to mind. Shepard's limbs had been twisted at awkward angles and a thin trail of blood had snaked from one of her ears. Wrex had put a bullet into the asari and Kaidan hadn't given it a second thought.

Looking back, he should've seen something was wrong. She'd come to him to ask advice about dealing with migraines, and he hadn't been able to tell her much. Her face had been thoughtful though, and in retrospect, maybe a little scared.

A hand clamped down on his and he started, his eyes meeting Ash's. Her brows were drawn together, and if he didn't know any better, he would've said that she was preparing to rip his throat out with her teeth. "Enough, LT," she said. "Have you even gotten something to eat?"

He shook his head.

"It's a damn good thing you've got me to look after your sorry ass," she said, pulling a protein bar from out of her pocket and tossing it into his lap. "I don't know what happens when you biotics don't eat regularly, and I don't really want to find out."

"Thanks," he said, staring down at the bar for a few beats before tearing into the thing.

"Yeah, yeah," said Ash, slumping into the chair next to him. "Any word?"

Again he shook his head, eyes sliding towards the door that led to the ICU. "She'll be fine, though."

"Of course," said Ash, and he was stupidly grateful to realize that she sounded totally confident. "This is Shepard we're talking about. Anyone that can survive an onslaught of fifty thousand batarians and live to tell the tale is capable of overcoming a headache gone wrong."

"Don't forget Mindoir," said Kaidan before he could stop himself.

Ash was quiet a long time while Kaidan ate his protein bar. They listened to some newscast about a freak electrical accident near the Presidium, a fight in the Wards that left a bar demolished, and some politician's war on litter.

Chin to chest, Ash said, "You know, I don't know anything about Shepard except what's in the bio vids."

Kaidan paused mid-bite and tried to think back to their conversations. She'd teased him more than once, made a few passing comments about horny teenagers, and one or two mentions of either Elysium or Mindoir, but that was it. He had no idea what sort of food she loved, or what kind of music, or what she did with herself when she wasn't soldiering. They were all questions he'd wanted to ask, but he hadn't been able to find a way that wasn't a total breach in protocol.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Doctor Chakwas entering the room. He was on his feet in half a second, and Ash was close behind, the two of them crossing the room to where the Doctor waited with a tired smile.

"She's awake," said the Doctor, "but only barely. I'm sure she wouldn't say no to seeing you."

They were led down a hall, stopping only once to let paramedics and a flurry of doctors rush past, all huddled around a gurney sporting a woman – or, at least, Kaidan thought it was a woman. He got a flash of gold and then they rounded the corner and out of sight. Doctor Chakwas went down an opposite hall, stopping in front of a room. She frowned, blinking at her omni-tool as she pulled up the interface. Her eyes scanned the message, and her frown became more pronounced.

"You two will have to keep an eye on her," she said. "Captain Anderson needs my attention." With one slow glance at Shepard's room, the Doctor headed back the way they'd come.

He and Ash peeked inside. Shepard was sitting up in bed perusing the extranet on her omni-tool, dark bags slung under her eyes like those saddlebags in those old Westerns Kaidan's dad loved. Ash squeezed his arm then shouldered past him, an overly large smile plastered onto her face. Shepard looked up at the sound of footsteps and a smaller, more honest smile grew on her lips. She scanned Ash's face, then her brown eyes turned on him and… Was it just his imagination, or did everything about her soften for a moment?

"Have you guys been here the whole time?" she queried.

"Not me, skipper," said Ash. "I had to go find the non-human crew and give them a status update. They were pretty worried." She paused and threw a mischievous glance at him. "The LT here stayed though."

"What do you mean?" asked Shepard with a frown, and Kaidan opened his mouth to explain, but she continued on. "How come you have to head out there? Why can't they come here?"

"Regs," chimed in Kaidan, stepping closer towards the bed, unnerved to suddenly be the centre of Shepard's attention. Yeah, unnerved, we'll go with that. "Alliance had to petition long and hard for this hospital. Anyone without the proper clearance isn't allowed in. The Council wasn't overly fond of the idea until they realized that they and their representatives would _always_ have proper clearance." He shrugged.

Shepard continued to frown like there was an idea in there that didn't appeal to her, but she couldn't figure out which one it was. "I don't want the others to worry unnecessarily," she said.

"They're pretty concerned," agreed Ash. "Looked like little miss Prothean doctor was going to wear a hole in the floor." Seeing this did nothing to comfort their fearless leader, she added, "But I'm going to tell them right now that you've woken up and you'll be back in action in no time." The Gunnery Chief gripped Shepard's hand. "Get better, Commander. We've still got bad guys to shoot." Ash clapped Kaidan on the shoulder as she left, throwing him a discreet wink.

"Noted, Chief," said Shepard with a smile, watching as Ash vacated the room. Then her eyes were all for Kaidan, and he felt like he was suddenly pushed on stage and expected to perform some amazing feat. She gestured to the plastic chair seated next to her bed and he parked himself there. "How are you doing Kaidan?"

He almost laughed. This woman never seemed to save a thought for herself. But then he looked into her weary face and Feros came rushing back. He leaned over her bedside, clasping his hands together over top the covers. "I'm shaken, that's for sure. God, seeing you pass out like that, I think I nearly had a heart attack."

Her hand came to rest on top of his, and for a moment every single nerve migrated to where she touched him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to worry you."

He moved to clasp her hand, trusting her to tell him off if he was being too forward. Kaidan met her eyes and asked the one question he needed to know. "What happened?"

Shepard twisted her heard away from him, staring at the blank wall opposite instead. "The Prothean vision has been giving me trouble," she said. "You've probably noticed the headaches I've been getting. I thought I could deal with it, that the headaches would go away." She snorted. "Obviously not."

Guilt replaced blood as it sloshed through his veins. Kaidan remembered the magnetic pull of the beacon, and how although he'd thrown all his weight backwards, his body continued to be drawn towards the ancient technology. He remembered the impact of her body on his, the gust of breath he let fly as he hit the ground, and seeing Shepard suspended in the air, eyes rolled back in pain before the kick of the explosion left her crumpled and unconscious.

"I should've been me," he said, closing his eyes. "I should be the one going through this. If you hadn't saved me from the beacon, I…"

"Stop," ordered Shepard, voice sharp. When Kaidan opened his eyes, she was glaring fiercely at him. "Don't you dare say it. I pushed you away from that beacon and I'd do it again. What's done is done. There's no use talking about _what if_." She thawed a little. "Besides, if it you'd had to put up with this mess on top of your L2 migraines, you would've been no help to anybody. It's better this way."

Kaidan wasn't sure if he'd go that far, but he'd never felt so much like kissing her. If their relationship – if their _friendship_ – had progressed to a point where that was reasonable, he might even have done it. Except that he was seated in an Alliance-controlled hospital, holding the hand of his CO, and though a certain amount of leeway would be given, he didn't want to take the chance that they'd be called out for fraternization. Not when the entire galaxy seemed to be conspiring against Shepard already.

"Still," he said, "when I saw you collapse… I can't remember the last time I was so scared, Shepard." The words settled slowly over the room, like the all too infrequent snows that would blow over Vancouver in his youth.

"I'm okay, Kaidan," she said, voice soft and all for him. Her fingers brushed his chest and she pinned what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile on her face. "Really. Doc says I'll be out of here in no time."

Knowing Doctor Chakwas as well as he did, Kaidan knew Shepard was lying. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with her or what treatment she'd been getting in the hospital – though judging from her bandaged head, probably not anything he wanted to know about – but he was skeptical that Chakwas had said anything of the sort. The doctor was more likely to order more bed rest than was necessary, not less.

"Good," said Kaidan, deciding for now to play along and trying to convince himself that her fingers on his chest had nothing to do with it. "The _Normandy _just isn't the same without you. You hold us together, you know?"

"Oh, I'm sure you guys would manage without me," objected Shepard with a dismissive head shake. "Sure, it would be a lot harder to track Saren without Prothean visions jangling around in your head, but I have no doubt you guys would be fine."

Something… Something in the way she said that lowered the temperature in the room a dozen degrees. Those beautiful brown eyes of hers were downcast, studying the thread count on the knitted blanket that covered her. Shepard sounded oddly like she was trying to convince someone, and the more terrifying realization was that Kaidan wasn't sure it was him.

"No," he said firmly, "we wouldn't."

Shepard rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and Kaidan started when he realized they were glossy with unshed tears. "You think that now. When you lose someone you… care about, you always think that there's no way you can continue on afterwards. But then you do because you have to, and it gets easier until it's second nature." She sighed softly. "You're all talented individuals. You could get the job done."

"Shepard," he said to get her attention, but her eyes remained swivelled upwards. He tried again, "Hey." This time, her eyes slowly connected with his own. "I didn't mean we _couldn't_ manage without you, but… I don't think we'd want to."

And that, that was the closest he had ever come to saying he loved her, that she was more to him than simply his CO. That although they hadn't spent that much time together, his day was always a little brighter after he'd seen her for the first time, even if it was only across the CIC.

Her lower lip quivered and he wanted, not for the first time or even the twentieth, to capture it with his own. Her smile was mismatched with the sadness in her eyes. "I'm going to be fine," she said. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that the _Normandy_ keeps flying with Commander Shepard on board."

"See that you do," said Kaidan, wanting to believe her, wanting it more than anything. He smiled. "Ma'am."

She laughed then, and his heart soared. It was too soon for the thought, he knew, but looking at her, he couldn't help but think, _My God, I never want to love anyone else._

**000  
**

Liara left the others in the small café after hearing Shepard had woken, as much for her own sanity as theirs. She hadn't been able to sit still since the Commander had fallen ill, wondering what had caused the collapse, and how come she hadn't noticed anything was wrong. True, she hadn't been on the mission to Feros – there'd been nothing there to suggest a Prothean connection, and Shepard had wanted a balanced squad with her – but she was supposed to be a scientist. An archaeologist was trained to notice slight variations where others saw none, yet Liara had noticed nothing amiss with Shepard.

This was why, she told herself, nobody in the academic community would take her seriously. If she couldn't even tell when a living, breathing person had something wrong, how could she made broad generalizations on minimal evidence concerning a long dead race? Especially when that living person was…

She stared out across the Presidium, wondering what her mother was doing now. When she was young, Benezia used to take her here, to the Presidium. They would get lunch at one of the cafes before wandering the foliage lined walkways. It seemed a miracle then, that the Protheans had built something so amazing and so enduring. Her mother had simply smiled and done her best to indulge in her daughter's curiosity.

Those days were long behind. Benezia had thrown her lot in with Saren, and though Liara didn't know the specific details of that betrayal, it wasn't something she could forgive.

Especially not when…

This wasn't the first time that Liara had been attracted to another person. She might only be a hundred and six, but she'd also studied among some of the most brilliant people in the galaxy. One or two had caught her eye, but none so quickly or so completely as Commander Shepard. At first, she tried to tell herself that it was simply Shepard's connection to the Protheans that interested her, but it soon became apparent that wasn't it.

She supposed it started that one night when she was studying in the common area. Shepard had wandered up with her usual small smile, and Liara found herself unable to resist returning one of her own.

"So I was wondering," said Shepard, in a transparent attempt to be polite, "if you could teach me how to make singularity?"

They'd spent the better part of the next few hours in the cargo bay. Teaching wasn't something Liara had ever been good at, and it didn't help that her pupil was another species – and terribly beautiful to boot. The light had caught the gold of Shepard's wavy hair, and Liara had been reminded of a flower that grew in the parks on Thessia. Despite Shepard's force of will, however, the singularity eluded her. The effort left her with bright cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"I'm sticking that on a geth squad once I get it mastered," she'd confided. "Going to be fun to watch them float around like dandelion seeds."

That woman was a far cry from the pale and drawn creature that Kaidan had carried back aboard. He'd laid her down so tenderly, wiping the hair from Shepard's face in a way that made Liara's fingers tingle. It was only now, when her concern had muted into a dull vibration instead of a sharp slap, that she could admit she'd been jealous. The feeling had only intensified when she saw the Lieutenant wander after Shepard into the Alliance hospital, while she'd been asked to remain outside.

She wanted Shepard. However it had started, she was growing to care for her Commander. But if the price of Shepard's life was losing her to Alenko, Liara would gladly pay. She sent a prayer up to Athame.

The area near the Council Tower was abuzz with activity. Vacating her musings, Liara wandered forward to where a wall of people had gathered around. She could vaguely hear the dual tones of a turian C-Sec officer attempting to shoo the onlookers away.

Liara tapped another asari on the shoulder. "What's happened?"

The woman shrugged, lifting herself onto her tiptoes to attempt to see over a salarian. "I'm not sure. They said something about a freak electrical malfunction earlier. Now, people are saying it was some sort of explosion."

Despite herself, Liara was curious. She shuffled through the crowd, and managed to work her way to the front. A large crater was in the middle of the walkway, at least twelve meters in diameter. Liara couldn't figure out why people were saying _electrical malfunction_ or _explosion_ until she realized that there were scorch marks leading away from the centre of the crater.

Weirdest of all, the trees had been stripped of their leaves but remained unburned. Liara frowned, collecting all the data. She couldn't deny that this might have been Saren's handiwork, or her mother's, however unlikely both options seemed. But an explosion wouldn't have left the trees untouched, and an electrical malfunction wouldn't have caused the ground to buckle the way it was.

Unless…

Liara backed straight into a turian and then offered a hurried apology. Pushing past him, she started back towards the café she'd come from, needing to put her theory to an audience.

It wasn't an explosion, and it wasn't electrical. What it looked like was a giant mass effect detonation.

**000**

Karin stared at the DNA analyses and tried to make sense of them. When her brain refused to cooperate, she switched to the blood work and tried to find some middle ground there. Nothing. She glanced over at Anderson, who stood on the opposite side of their commandeered office. His back was against the wall, his arms crossed over her chest, and he just watched her, waiting.

So she pulled up the brain scan and stared at that too. Her brain frizzled with incomprehension.

Anderson didn't say a word.

She'd been made to wait for nearly half an hour in the office before Anderson marched in, several OSDs in his hand. He hadn't revealed anything then, either, merely handed the files to her and asked what she made of them. Twenty minutes had passed, and she was still waiting for him to reveal the punchline.

"Where did these come from?" she asked, propping herself up on the edge of the desk.

"New patient," said Anderson. "There was some sort of incident up near the Presidium. Enough to damage a body badly enough that on first glance it would be indistinguishable." The Captain pushed away from the wall, looking troubled. "But when you start cleaning up the blood, start accounting for the bruising and the facial fractures, well. The resemblance is uncanny."

"There are over eleven billion people on Earth alone," she felt obliged to point out, despite the growing knot of unease in her stomach. "Statistically, the likelihood of finding two unrelated people with similar appearances is not insignificant."

"And the lab results?"

Karin swallowed. "Those are… more problematic, I will admit."

"There's one more thing, too," added Anderson. He closed the space between them, fishing something from inside his pocket and holding it out to her.

It was a set of dog tags, charred and covered in blood. She clasped it, then held its weight in her palm. Her hand was the first to start shaking, and then her knees. She sat down heavily in one of the nondescript office chairs.

They read: _Shepard, Devyn A. _

* * *

_This is something I've been thinking about for months. It won't be updated quickly - it's going to be far too long and complex for that, but I needed to put it out into the world so that I'd give myself an obligation to finish it, no matter the timeline. It's quite different than my other pieces, so I hope that you enjoy! :)  
_


	2. Two

"Look like the innocent flower,  
But be the serpent under it."

**William Shakespeare,**_** Macbeth  
**_

Garrus couldn't figure out exactly why he was headed into C-Sec headquarters, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with a certain asari and her wide-eyed look of appeal. The elevator ride down was all too familiar, and it made his plates itch. It was as though he could feel all the rules and regulations of the place crawling underneath his armor and slithering along his naked body.

Working with Shepard had spoiled him. She was a Spectre, and free to do whatever she liked. Of course, that didn't usually stop her from making what some might call the _moral choice_. Like with Doctor Saleon, for instance. She'd given the doctor, monster that he was, the chance at a trial and redemption. The doctor hadn't taken it – Garrus saw that coming a mile off – and Shepard had shot the guy dead between the eyes.

"What was the point of that?" he'd asked.

"The point," Shepard had said, kindly but firmly, "is that we gave him a choice. We're not butchers, Garrus. The second you start thinking you get to decide who lives and who dies is the second you inch closer to being, well, him." She jerked her head towards Doctor Saleon.

He'd never thought of it like that before. For him, it was always about nabbing the criminal and making sure they didn't hurt anyone else. Shepard brought up an interesting philosophical quandary, and Garrus really wasn't sure what to do with that. Her point of view wasn't altogether different from his father's, and the idea that his father might have been right about the letter of the law… Well, that rankled.

What rankled more was thinking of Shepard laid low by a headache. He was used to her being the steadying influence in his life, weird as that sounded. He looked to her for a lead to follow, and now that she was in the hospital, well, he felt adrift.

C-Sec smelled the same. He wandered into the room and over to the desk, answering several shouted verbal jabs with a wave of his hand. When he mentioned the incident up on the Presidium, the asari detective shook her head in consternation and directed him towards Bailey.

Garrus hadn't ever worked with Lieutenant Bailey, but he'd heard good things about the man. He was one of the first humans to work with C-Sec, and so far he was the precedent by which all others were measured. The man was slumped over his datapads, sipping a mug of something and squinting at the photos. His eyes slid up and took in Garrus.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Heard that there was some sort of incident on the Presidium this morning," said Garrus. "I'm working a case with the Spectre at the moment, and I thought it might be related." Truth was, he didn't think any such thing – _Liara_ thought they might be connected. _The Protheans were miles ahead in their understanding of dark matter and mass effect fields_, she'd said_, and much of their technology relied on those principles to function. What if this is connected to the Conduit?_

The connection was shaky, at best, and they both knew it. But because he was tired of watching the asari worry herself sick over Shepard, and because he himself was sick of sitting around with the same gnashing feeling in his veins waiting for news, he agreed to check it out.

Bailey leaned back in his chair, the thing creaking under his weight. "You're the one who took off with Commander Shepard to hunt that bastard Saren."

Garrus shrugged. "Guilty."

"And you think that this, what are they calling it?" Bailey reached over and grabbed a datapad, frowning. "_Large expulsion of energy from an unknown source _has something to do with it?" Skepticism laced his words.

"I think it might," hedged Garrus, and he knew that Bailey could see through him.

Bailey scratched his chin. "You know, you're not a Spectre. I'm not obligated to share anything with you."

"True," said Garrus, stamping down the annoyance that flooded his system. This, this was why being a Spectre was better than any other law enforcement position.

"Calm down and stop looking like I kicked your puppy," said Bailey, and though Garrus didn't know what a puppy was, he got the general idea. "I said I wasn't obligated, not that I wasn't going to." He held out a datapad. "Scuttlebutt says Shepard's holed up in the Alliance hospital with some sort of injury. That true?"

"Nothing serious," lied Garrus. "Something to do with her implant, I think."

"Right," said Bailey, but not like he believed it.

The pictures on the datapad showed the cordoned off area of the Presidium from various angles. Like Liara had said, there was a huge crater and scorch marks leading away from it. A bench had been near completely disintegrated, but the trees that lay on the outskirts of the… the what? Point of impact? That would imply that there was something that fell. In any case, the trees not in the immediate radius were stripped clean but otherwise untouched. It seemed as though the _expulsion of energy from an unknown source_ had confined itself to, by comparison, a relatively small area.

But Liara had been right about one thing. Garrus wasn't used to working in close proximity with biotics – or, at least, not those who actively used their powers in the field – but after a few missions with Shepard and Liara, he knew what a biotic detonation looked like, especially one centered around some sort of singularity.

Witness reports say that nothing seemed amiss before the incident. Then, a bright light had appeared, and electric discharge had flown from around the centre of the crater. One salarian described it as being comparable to the electric discharge from a mass relay. Another said he was sure that he saw one – or more – ships being destroyed around area in question, though when prompted, he described an Alliance freighter and a quarian civilian ship. Neither had been anywhere near the Presidium at the time in question. Couldn't have been – no unauthorized ships were allowed in that sector.

"An enigma wrapped in a mystery, ain't it?" said Bailey.

Garrus nodded. Despite his better judgement, he found himself siding with Liara. Something was definitely amiss here, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow related to their search for Saren. The logical part of his brain said that yes, even though that one witness claimed to see an Alliance vessel and a quarian one, that didn't mean anything – news about the geth and the attacked human colonies was all over the vids. It was on everyone's mind. If someone were going to have a hallucination, it would make sense that they'd draw from recent memory.

But something…

"Where's this injured party mentioned in the report?" asked Garrus.

"Now that's the funny thing. Some Alliance bigwig was on the Presidium at the time – some Russian Rear Admiral or something – and he was the first to reach the victim. Second he saw her, he summoned Alliance doctors and carted her out of there, claiming she was a member of their military and thus under her jurisdiction." Bailey folded his hands behind his head. "I've tried to call the hospital to see when I can set up a meaning, get to the bottom of this, but all I'm getting is that it's _classified._" The man's mouth was a thin line. "This isn't looking good for the Alliance, friend. There's already bad feelings about humanity's push for a Council seat, and with news that Shepard might be in trouble…"

"She's fine," insisted Garrus, though he knew nothing of the sort. His head hurt. He'd never been good with politics, and of late, he'd left that almost entirely in Shepard's capable hands.

"Yeah, well, maybe you can get her to get us inside the hospital," said Bailey. "This isn't going to go well if the Alliance continues to cover it up. Give me something I can work with, maybe we can stop this mess before it starts."

"I'll see what I can do," said Garrus, though how he was going to manage that when he couldn't even get himself into the hospital, that was the question.

He stared at the photos and wished he could make the pieces fit together. He wasn't spiritual, and though he trusted his gut feelings, he'd never felt anything this potent before. It felt like a sharp pinch to his subconscious, and he was going to figure out why.

**000**

Karin inserted the syringe into the IV. The patient they were referring to as Patient B – aka "the Other Shepard" – had been kept in an induced coma while doctors and surgeons worked on her mangled body. Huge compounded fractures to both femurs and one tibia. Severe burns up one arm and across the chest, exacerbated by lacerations caused from what looked to be ship shrapnel. Bruising covered nearly 90% of her body, and Karin couldn't help but wonder what this woman, Shepard or not, had been through.

Well, they were about to find out.

She backed up to join Captain Anderson and Admiral Hackett at the foot of the bed. Both men were grave, though Hackett seemed more so – he usually did. Anderson was worried, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes glued to the prone form in the bed. It was hard to see someone who looked so much like the Commander so grievouslyinjured. Even Karin found it hard to distance herself.

There were six armed marines outside the door in case something went awry. Karin tried not to think about them or what would happen if their new guest didn't have satisfactory answers.

"She's going to be in terrible pain," she warned them. "We have no idea what caused these injuries. Her mental state might not be what you'd call balanced."

Both men nodded. Hackett's eyes stoopd lower over his eyes, but his face remained as stoic as ever. Anderson, on the other hand, flinched around his eyes, lines spreading like spindly fingers towards the back of his skull. His eyes met hers, and through his steely determination tinged with worry, she saw the first pinprick of fear.

Patient B tossed her head slightly, her face contorting with pain as she moved something that wasn't meant to be moved. She looked so much like Shepard – the _real_ Shepard – under all those bruises and lacerations that Karin started to move forward. She was hindered by Hackett's hand around her arm. The Admiral didn't look at her, not even once, keeping his eyes firmly forward, but his message was clear: don't interfere.

Brown eyes flickered open, staring hazily at the surroundings. The vaguest crease appeared between her brows and she groaned slightly. Her fingers gripped at the blankets that covered her and let out a shuddering breath. Her eyes turned down, and she took in the unlikely trio standing at the foot of her bed, her eyes zeroing in on Anderson. Tears clouded her eyes. She swallowed hugely and opened her mouth. A wheeze burst out and she tried again.

"Am I dead?" she asked, emotion clogging her throat.

"No," said Karin. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Despite the obvious physical pain, Patient B lifted her hand in something like supplication towards the Captain. "Anderson," she whispered, "you survived. I was sure…" Tears flooded down her cheeks. "Thank God."

Anderson took a step forward, hands in his pocket. "You know me?"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Patient B, breath hitching. "Of course I do. You're Admiral Anderson." She swung her head to peer at Karin and Admiral Hackett beyond, ignoring Anderson's startled expression. "Doctor Chakwas, Admiral – I'm so glad to see you. Did the Crucible fire? Is the war over?"

Karin felt a finger of unease run the length of her spine. Patient B, with her bruises and cuts, lay there expectantly, waiting like an old friend for an answer none of them could give. Anderson's hands had fallen from his pockets, and he now clung to the edge of the bed, while Hackett had turned his body slightly away, showing a hint of apprehension for the first time.

"The Crucible?" repeated Admiral Hackett.

Those brown eyes that looked so much like the Commanders – that _were_ the Commander's, if one trusted the DNA readings – shot between the three of them like this was some horrible joke and she was waiting for the punch line. None came.

"The weapon," she tried. "The instrument to destroy the Reapers?"

"You know about the Reapers?" said Anderson, voice hard.

Fear trickled onto Patient B's face like frost. Her body tensed under her blanket. "This isn't funny," she said.

"We're not laughing," said Admiral Hackett.

The blue of biotics swirled over Patient B's skin like low tide in an eddy. "Where am I? What the hell is going on?"

Karin stepped forward, laying a hand on the woman's arm and flinching only slightly at the static shock. "Please, try to remain calm. You're in the Alliance military hospital on the Citadel. You've been gravely injured and we're attempting to figure out where you came from."

"And who you are," added Hackett unflinchingly.

"The Citadel?" said the woman, completely ignoring the pointed statements about her identity. She shook her head, lower lip trembling. "That's not possible. The Citadel was destroyed. Everyone on board… There were so many bodies…" She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, her chest heaving.

Karin stared at Anderson who looked ill as she stared down at the woman. Hackett looked concerned, probably wondering what the deception was here. For her part, Karin didn't know what to think. She'd never seen Commander Shepard cry – the real Commander Shepard, mind you, the one down the hall, the one from aboard the _Normandy_. This woman had shadows lurking under her skin, and while anyone with half a brain could see that Shepard did too, Karin felt that if anyone were to hold a light up to this woman's skin, they'd be able to trace those shadows with their fingertips.

"Who do you think you are?" asked Anderson softly.

"I'm your friend," said Patient B in a tremulous voice. "I'm Commander Devyn Amelia Shepard, born on Mindoir in 2154. Daughter of Theo and Evelyn Shepard. We met for the first time after you awarded me my N7 commendation, Anderson." She turned to look at Hackett. "And you, sir, you're the one that pinned the Star of Terra to my chest after Elysium."

"No," said Admiral Hackett, "I didn't." To Karin, he added, "Put her back to sleep. We need to discuss what to do with her."

Patient B's biotics flared again, her corona swirling around the bed. "No," ground out the woman. "I just woke up and I want to know what the hell you three are playing at. Is the war still going on? Did we win?" When nobody answered, she slammed her nightstand into the adjacent wall in a burst of blue. "Tell me what's going on!"

That was the moment when the marines burst into the room, each with a rifle pointed at the woman in the bed. Karin inhaled sharply when she recognized Shepard's stubborn expression, one she'd seen more often since the search for Saren had begun. She watched the woman weigh the odds, watched her wonder if she could take them all, but ultimately that blue dissipated and Patient B stared up at them with heartbroken concession.

Karin took another syringe from her kit and approached the IV. She pushed the drug into the fluid and watched as Patient B struggled to keep her eyes open. Her patient smiled at her, soft and sad, and said, "You should go get yourself a glass of Serrice Ice Brandy, Karin. You look like you need a drink, and it might as well be your favourite." Patient B's head slumped to the side then, her eyes closed and breathing deep.

Taking a step back, Karin held the back of her palm up against her mouth. How had she known? Even Commander Shepard didn't know that. Anderson laid a hand on her arm, and escorted her from the room. She allowed herself to be led into the small office she'd occupied the previous day in another conversation about the same patient. Admiral Hackett followed, closing the door behind him with a hiss.

"That doesn't mean anything," he said, rounding the desk and standing with his fingers splayed on its top. "She could be an imposter. She didn't know anything that she couldn't find out through external sources."

"She knew about the ice brandy," whispered Karin, prompting both men to look at her. "It _is_ my favourite. I rarely drink it, because it's too expensive for my bank account."

"It's still information that she could've gotten from outside sources," argued Hackett. He was frowning in a way that made the scar across his face seem sinister. "I don't know who she is or why she's here, but we need to find out before whatever plan she's harbouring is set in motion."

Karin felt the need to say something. "Do you really think…"

"I don't know," said Admiral Hackett, "but the woman in that room has had extensive genetic reconstruction and modification. Who's to say there isn't some splinter cell out there with the technology to make this woman seem like Commander Shepard? To train her to think and behave like the Commander? God knows there's enough video evidence out there to study personal habits and nervous tics. After Elysium, there were several research articles done on her personal history. It's not impossible. We need to keep an eye on her."

"C-Sec has begun to make inquiries," said Anderson. "So far as Palin knew, this was just some Alliance marine caught in an unfortunate accident, but now that we're keeping things classified, he's clued in that something isn't right. We're walking on thin ice here. Should we tell Udina?"

Hackett sighed, leaning all his weight onto his arms. "If we handle this the wrong way, he's going to start a witch hunt. We already have a rogue Spectre leading an army of geth. The last thing we need is the general populace fearing that another Spectre was almost replaced by a doppelganger." He pushed up from the desk and started around the desk. "I'm going to have to make calls to Arcturus to figure out our game plan. In the meantime, Captain, I suggest you go talk to the Ambassador – _and_ the Council. _Carefully_." He hit the interface to open the door.

"Her expressions," said Anderson, "they're just like Shepard's, aren't they?"

"Yeah," said Admiral Hackett, and exited the room.

Karin wasn't especially close with the Commander, and though that was beginning to change during their chase for Saren, the two of them couldn't quite be considered friends yet. Captain Anderson, if the rumours were true, had nurtured Commander Shepard since some of her earliest training years. So while Karin felt as though she were gasping for breath, she was certain David Anderson had already sunk far below the surface and was slowly being crushed.

**000**

To say Donnel Udina was not impressed was an understatement. He cursed the day he'd sat roundtable with Captain Anderson and Admiral Hackett vetting possible human Spectres. He cursed that he'd ever brought up Commander Devyn Shepard. She was turning out to be a bigger pain in his ass than he could ever have guessed.

Some small part of him knew that it wasn't her fault, not really, but that part was buried under the huge heap of annoyance that came with cleaning up the political destruction she left in her wake.

The Council was divided on their opinion of her. Tevos had high hopes for the Commander, and tend to look down on her newest Spectre the way an aunt would – with a kindly but critical eye. Valern was neutral, prepared to back Shepard only insofar as the evidence led. But Sparatus, that damned turian had it out for Shepard – had it out for humanity. Probably still smarting from the First Contact War.

Of course, faith in humanity had ebbed slightly after Shepard had started going off on her psychotic spiels about sentient machines coming to destroy them all. He did what he could to keep her conspiracy theories under wraps. Otherwise, humanity would be seen as the laughing stock of the galaxy. Now, with Shepard holed up in the hospital suffering from brain damage or whatever it was, he could see in the Councillors' faces that they were having second thoughts about the first ever human Spectre.

That was why, despite his better judgement, he was standing before the Council with Captain Anderson. This was a political meltdown waiting to happen, and while Udina didn't think Anderson had any place in the proceedings – especially given his history in galactic affairs – he'd gotten a vid call from a few influential persons on Arcturus telling him in no uncertain terms that he had no choice.

From their location in their joined office, the Councillors stared down their noses at Udina. One day, one day he would be up there with them. Then he wouldn't have to deal with their snide arrogance.

They weren't pleased with the way the Alliance had swooped in to stonewall anyone attempting to investigate the strange occurrence on the Presidium. He could see in Sparatus' beady little eyes that the turian saw this as another way in which humanity was overstepping their bounds. Udina argued that it had to be done, that seeing someone with an uncanny similarity to Shepard in the middle of that debacle would've created more problems and anxiety than the tactical retreat instigated by the Alliance. Which brought them to that particular topic.

"Captain Anderson," said Tevos, inclining her head in his direction. "I assume that you've come to discuss the recent events with us?"

Anderson ambled up to stand next to Udina, who had to work to hide his grimace. "Yes, Councillors. You all received the information I forwarded?"

"We did," said Valern.

"Do you really expect us to believe the information contained herein?" demanded Sparatus, hands clenching the console in front of him. "First there was Shepard with her delusions about apocalyptic AI, and now you've got, what? A cloned Shepard?"

Frankly, Udina couldn't disagree with Sparatus on any point the turian made, but that didn't stop him from taking offense at the tone. He frowned and opened his mouth to rebut the implied insult, but Valern beat him to it. The salarian pulled up his omni-tool, and even backwards, Udina could tell it was all the medical data collected on the… _thing_ Anderson had dubbed Patient B.

"Not cloning," said Valern with a slight frown. "My people have pioneered the newest technology in biological innovation and warfare, and even we would not have been able to produce such a perfect genetic copy. Even were this a clone, slight variations would occur where there are none. All differences exhibited by the subject are the result of genetic modification or reconstruction upon an identical genetic structure. Some changes are, of course, also due to epigenetic factors." He blinked his large eyes. "It's really quite extraordinary."

Udina had heard a rumour that one of the ways Valern had risen to such prominence – a man representing what was fundamentally a matriarchal society – was due to his extensive, and confidential, work with STG. He hadn't believed it until just now.

"So who is she then?" asked Tevos.

Valern tapped one long finger against his chin. "Identical twin would be the most likely," he said. "It would account for the slight variations in genetic chemical structure, while explaining how the base was identical. It wouldn't account for the identical fingerprints, though."

"She claims to be Commander Shepard," interjected Anderson, hands clasped behind his back. "Though much of what she said was nonsensical, she still had at least the basic knowledge of Shepard's background."

"A spy?" wondered Sparatus. "From her personnel file, we know that Shepard was the sole surviving member of her family after what happened on Mindoir. Could it be that a twin sister that has only recently escaped her batarian captives? Or perhaps a slave that was conditioned for recon within the Citadel?"

"Even excusing for a moment the fatal flaw that is sending one woman directly and conspicuously towards the woman she's supposed to be replacing," said Tevos, "those who endure batarian slavery rarely do so without tremendous emotional trauma. More than likely, she wouldn't remember her name, never mind an entire, rehearsed biography."

"And there is the fact," added Valern quietly, "that this _Patient B_'s reconstruction far outstrips anything the batarians would be able to accomplish. The level of sophistication is even beyond salarian technology at this point."

The room went silent. A migraine rampaged against Udina's temples and he fought the urge to rub them. This wasn't the sort of situation he'd signed on for when he'd become Ambassador. Diplomatic incidents, he could deal with. Whatever incident was happening now… It was entirely beyond him. He'd contributed exactly nothing to the proceedings, and the only thing that made him feel even marginally better was the fact that Anderson had been little help either.

"She recognized us," said Anderson, eyes on the floor. "Admiral Hackett and myself, I could understand, but she recognized Doctor Karin Chakwas – the medic aboard the _Normandy_. If I didn't know any better, I would be convinced she was Commander Shepard."

"Have you learned anything of note from her?" said Tevos.

Anderson went on to describe the encounter exactly as it had happened. The recounting was full of nonsensical details – a weapon to eradicate the Reapers, the Citadel destroyed and littered with bodies – and Udina allowed himself a moment to wallow in the irony that even this Shepard doppelganger seemed to insist on being insane.

The three Councillors shared a look, and then turned their attention onto Anderson. "You're going to have to interrogate her," said Tevos.

"Thoroughly," added Sparatus, with what passed for a frown among turians.

"And perhaps you should bring the real Commander to watch the proceedings," said Valern.

Udina watched Anderson's hands clench at his sides and knew what the Captain was thinking – that Shepard's state was not such that this was a good idea. Unfortunately for the Captain – and for Shepard – humanity's galactic standing was balanced on the head of a pin. Udina stepped forward. "Of course," he said. "She may be able to shed some light on the situation."

"With all due respect, Councillors," said Anderson, ignoring the angry look Udina threw his way, "I'm not sure that's a great idea. It could be traumatic on both ends."

"We didn't say you had to sit them down and have lunch with the two of them," countered Sparatus. "Simply make sure that Shepard is able to hear what this so-called Patient B has to say and go from there."

"You're dismissed," said Tevos.

Udina and Anderson left the room, the former trailing behind and attempting to squash down the irritation he felt for everyone involved. When they'd cleared the office, Anderson whirled on him.

"What the hell are you thinking?" demanded the Captain. "We both know that Shepard's in no state to deal with this."

"I know nothing of the sort," said Udina, crossing his arms.

"That Prothean beacon is burning a hole through her brain," said Anderson, his voice going hollow. Although Udina didn't like Shepard and certainly didn't like the man standing in front of him, he did feel a faint sliver of sympathy. "Who knows what seeing this woman will do to her?"

"I understand, Captain," said Udina, "but this is larger than Shepard. The Alliance covered up something that wasn't in their jurisdiction. I have to clean up the mess you made and make sure it doesn't reflect on humanity as a whole." He attempted to push past.

Anderson grabbed his arm. "And what about Saren? He's still out there, up to God knows what. If this interrogation destabilizes her condition further, who's going to go after him?"

It was a punch in the gut, and the worst part was that the Captain knew it. Udina had to remain firm. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't asked myself that? If I could haul Shepard out of that bed right now and shove her back into the Traverse, I would do it. But you've bound me in red tape, Captain. Maybe you'll consider that next time you make a faulty decision."

This time, Anderson didn't attempt to stop him from going. Udina walked down the hall, his shoes clacking on the tile and wondered why, even though he got the last word, it didn't feel anywhere close to a victory.

**000**

Shepard blinked lazily at him, and Anderson had to resist the urge to move one of the few wayward curls that peeked out of her bandages. Her skin had grown pale and clammy, and though it had only been a few days, the pounds seemed to be falling off of her despite the fact that all her nutrition was now being done intravenously.

Anderson had no children. Hadn't found time, truth be told. Back when he and Cynthia were first married, they'd talked about having a family. Then the First Contact War had hit and the Alliance had gradually overcome every other facet of his life until he lost her. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was too late, but looking at Shepard, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the worry parents felt when their child was deathly ill. It was beautifully heartbreaking.

"I have something I need to show you," he said, hands clasped between his knees on the plastic chair.

Despite her weakened state, she still frowned and moved to prop herself up. "Is it about Saren?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he assured her. His gaze swept over her prone form. "Are you okay to go for a trip in your wheelchair?"

Shepard nodded, and he could see how much it cost her. A thin trail of blood snaked down from her nose, and he brushed it away with the cuff of his uniform. She closed her eyes at the gesture and took a deep breath in. When she opened them, Anderson realized that they both knew she probably wasn't going to make it, that whatever had crawled inside her head was slowly eating her alive.

She licked her lips. "Let's go."

Her body was impossibly light as he helped her into the chair. Her hands clutched loosely at the arm rests. He took her blanket from off the bed and tucked it in around her legs.

"I'm dying," she said with forced amusement, "not an invalid."

"Don't say that," he censured, frowning at her. "You're going to be fine."

"Yeah," she said, "fine."

Anderson wheeled her out of the room and down the hall. She'd been moved the more contained ward after Patient B had been found under the pretense that hospital staff had started getting a little too nosy about the first human Spectre. She'd accepted it at face value, though he could see the gears churning behind her eyes.

"The first thing you should know," he started, keeping his voice low so only she could hear, "was that there was an incident up on the Presidium. We're still not altogether sure what happened, but there appeared to be some sort of explosion."

Shepard wheeled her eyes around to meet him. "Was anyone hurt?"

Licking his lips, Anderson said, "Only one."

As they continued down the hall, the hospital staff got fewer and far between. Some would nod gravely in his direction. Shepard remained silent, though he had no doubt that she was memorizing the path they took on the off chance she'd need it later. The closer they got, the more unease spread like a mould through his system, infecting everything it touched. When they finally reached the door – closed and unmarked – he paused for so long that she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I'm guessing this is the one person?" she asked.

Anderson nodded, hesitating. "You should know that we haven't entirely figured out where she came from yet. By all accounts, she shouldn't exist."

Her other eyebrow shot up to join the first. "That must've been some explosion."

He didn't have the heart to correct her, to tell her that _she shouldn't have survived_ was entirely different than _she shouldn't exist_. "She's sedated at the moment, both because of her injuries and because we can't be entirely certain she's not a risk."

"But she's not related to Saren?" asked Shepard, and he could see she was running her tongue over her teeth like she did when she was thinking something through. "C'mon Captain, you have to give me more than that. If you're bringing me to see her, something's got to be up."

The option was there to just tell her now, but would she believe it? Hell, he didn't even quite believe it, and he'd seen Patient B with his own two eyes. Where would he even start? And there was no way to tell the tale without spinning into the politics of the thing. No, better just to let her see and fill her in afterwards. He didn't want to overburden her all at once.

"You'll see," he hedged, and knew that he was a coward.

They reached the unnumbered door and the marines all snapped to attention. Shepard offered her own weary salute, elbow maybe not as crisp as it should've been, but those men looked as proud as if she'd just pinned the Star of Terra to their chests. These men, they hadn't been briefed. They didn't know that bruised and battered woman they were guarding was, by every scientific test they could run, the closest genetic match to Commander Shepard that a person could be – closer, in fact, than should have been possible. They only knew that commander Shepard sat in front of them now, and they'd write their families later to describe the entire exchange.

One twisted the knob and swung the door open. Anderson nodded at him and wheeled Shepard inside. He left her by the foot of the bed, eying the occupant with obvious curiosity, while he shut and locked the door. She wheeled herself further into the room before he could stop her, her curiosity turning into a frown.

"She looks familiar," said Shepard, tilting her head.

_She should,_ thought Anderson.

Propping her elbows up on the bed, Shepard leaned closer. "She reminds me of my mom."

There was something tragic about that simple statement. For one gut-wrenching moment, Anderson wished it was Evelyn Shepard in that bed, against all odds. He wished he could give that to Shepard instead of a whole slew of other problems. He took a step closer, folding his hands together behind his back to steady himself.

"Shepard, you wouldn't happen to be a twin, would you?"

She blinked at him in abject confusion. Her frown became more pronounced. "I – no, not that I know of. There was just me and…" Her face went blank and she took a deep breath. "I didn't have a sister. Why?"

"Because, frankly, we don't know what to make of our friend here." Anderson jerked a chin towards the bed. "She appeared amidst a detonation of unknown origin in one of the best protected areas of the Citadel."

"That would explain why it looks like someone took a baseball bat to her face," observed Shepard. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"When we found her, she was wearing these," said Anderson, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the dog tags that he'd been carrying around the last few days. He held them out to Shepard, who took them and turned them over and over and over.

"These aren't mine," she said. "The ID number is still the same, but on mine, there was an imperfection on the seven that's always bothered me, see?" She dug under her shirt and pulled out her tags, tapping a finger on the seven that looked a little wonky around the base. "So who is she, a phoney Commander Shepard?" Anderson closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them to find Shepard inspecting the other woman's face. "It's hard to tell, but she's missing my scars too. I have one on my lip from when I slipped gravel when I was three. Rock straight through. Mom nearly fainted."

"Shepard," he said.

"And the one on my cheek, from where that batarian snuck up on me under stealth on Elysium. Damn bastard nearly shoved a shiv straight through before I threw him away."

"Shepard," he repeated, and stepped forward to put his hand on her shoulder. "She… based on all the tests we could run, she's as identical as a person could be."

Shepard frowned up at him. "What, like personality wise? Aptitude scores?"

"DNA results," said Anderson quietly, watching as Shepard's face shut down completely, "brain scans, that sort of thing. Councillor Sparatus' pet theory is that she's your long lost twin sister, who may or may not have been sent as a spy for the batarian hegemony."

With a scoff, Shepard wheeled herself backwards. "Somebody should tell the hegemony that their plan sucks."

"She claimed to be you when we woke her up for a bit. She talked about the Reapers."

The whites of Shepard's eyes grew around her irises. She looked at the woman with a new gravity, though still with no little suspicion. "That," she said, "that's… just a coincidence." Her temper snapped. "This is ridiculous! We're not seriously sitting here discussing whether or not I have a secret twin sister, are we?"

"She mentioned a war too. With the Reapers." Anderson shrugged slightly. "Now, that might mean something or it might mean that whoever this is, she's very good at intel and impersonation. Either way, the Council wanted you made aware so you could listen in when we interrogate her."

"I don't like this," whispered Shepard. "My brain is turning to goo, Saren's on the loose, and now we have some woman who arrives under suspicious circumstances and thinks it'll be fun to be me. Something's off here – besides the obvious I mean. Could she be a clone?"

"Councillor Valern had some technical jargon about why it was unlikely," said Anderson. "But besides the science, why would anyone have chosen to clone you? It's not a quick process, and until a few weeks ago, you were unimportant." Seeing her vaguely offended expression, he added, "Relatively speaking. You were a hero to humanity, make no doubt, but hardly someone to figure in a conspiracy."

"Fair enough, I suppose," she conceded, eyes fastened to the bed. When she did look up, confusion and fear churning beneath the surface of her face, Anderson wanted nothing more than to console her. Of course, he'd never been good at telling untruths – it was one of the reasons he was no longer married. "What next?"

"We're arranging to have her woken up and questioned," he said.

The answers had better be illuminating.

**000**

Liara wrung her hands as she, Garrus and Tali walked through the Alliance hospital. There was nothing to be afraid of. Intellectually, she knew this, but she'd never been surrounded by so many humans before. Considering that in the first solitary talk she ever had with Shepard, she wasn't even able to understand a simple joke… She was inclined to be nervous.

Garrus, though, he stalked beside her like the apex predator he was, blue eyes scanning each door they passed. Whereas she and Tali were met with curiosity, some of the older humans looked at Garrus with something close to hatred.

"Why are they glaring at you, Garrus?" asked Tali quietly.

Mandibles twitching, but attention only half on the question, Garrus said, "Probably that pesky First Contact War. It's fewer than thirty years since then. Some people don't want to let go."

"I'm glad nobody on the _Normandy_ is like that," said Liara.

"Almost nobody," muttered Garrus, and ignored the questioning glances sent his way.

Truth be told, Liara was only marginally more comfortable with Garrus and Tali than she was with the humans. People in general had never been her strong suit. She much preferred the solitude of a dig site. She didn't have to worry about social niceties or accidentally saying something stupid. Benezia never seemed to have any problem with what she would consider these basic tasks, but Liara… Well, there was more than one reason she'd chosen the profession she had.

"It's too bad Wrex couldn't come," said Tali. "I'm sure Shepard would've liked to see him."

"I'm bad enough. Can you imagine a krogan in this place?" asked Garrus.

True enough. Wrex had graciously – all right, with some grumbling – offered to stay behind when the message came that non-Alliance crew were permitted to visit Shepard. Something about _that crazy human is going to be fine, so why should I bother?_

Liara wished she had his confidence.

The door they were looking for was closed when they reached it, so Liara gave a little knock. Shepard called to them from within, telling them to enter. They did, Tali first, then Garrus, with her bringing up the rear. Her steps faltered when she took in the Commander's appearance. Those long, golden curls were hidden underneath a cap of white bandages. The lines on her face were more prominent, and her skin had taken on a tone of grey Liara wasn't sure was normal. Still, when she smiled, her brown eyes sparkled and she lifted a hand to gesture them over.

"Hey guys," she said. "Sorry it took so long to get you in here. Hope you were off having fun in the meanwhile."

The three of them shared a look and Liara was forced, as the only one with visible lips, to pull them into a reciprocal smile. "No need to worry, Commander," she said, moving over to the bed. She moved to cover Shepard's hand with her own and then thought the better of it. "We're just glad to see you're looking well."

"Well?" said Shepard. "Liara, you're too nice. I look like hell and we both know it."

Liara felt her skin grow hot. Were you not supposed to pay compliments to humans who were ill? Were you supposed to be entirely frank about the situation? Liara hadn't yet adjusted to the humans' need to vocalize everything in a remarkably blunt manner. They did not dance around issues: they demanded, professed, ordered, accused. She supposed it had something to do with their short lifespans – if one only had a hundred years in which to accomplish all one wanted, well, Liara supposed she might be the same way.

Shepard must have noticed her discomfort, because she raised her hand and took Liara's. Liara was sure it must be obvious that her heart was fluttering like the star beetles she used to catch back on Thessia, but nothing showed on the Commander's face. "Thank you, Liara," said Shepard. "I appreciate the thought."

"You are welcome," said Liara.

"What about you two troublemakers?" asked Shepard. "You guys done anything worthwhile?"

"I got to go to the ship outlet on the Presidium," gushed Tali. "They have ship parts that could vastly conserve the fuel required by the fleet!" The young quarian gestured largely with her hands for emphasis, and Liara could tell that there was a smile under her helmet.

"Not much," said Garrus, crossing his arms. "Been doing some work with C-Sec. Have you heard about the incident that happened up on the Presidium a few days back."

Was it Liara's imagination, or did Shepard flinch slightly. Still, the Commander's smile remained in place, albeit slightly strained now. "I did."

"Doctor T'Soni here thought that it might be related to Saren," said Garrus, and Liara had to duck her eyes when she was suddenly confronted with Shepard's brown gaze. "C-Sec officers were scratching their head about what could've caused a crater like that, but Liara here said it reminded her of a biotic detonation."

"Really?" said Shepard, and she leaned forward despite the hitch in her hearing. "You mean like when I punch your singularity with a throw?"

"Not exactly," said Liara. "Even for an asari matriarch, a detonation of that size and power would be near impossible. It would take a massive singularity, probably the size of the crater itself or very near it, to create that sort of damage."

"What could do that?" asked Shepard.

"I – I don't really know much about biotics," chimed in Tali, "but on the fleet we had a ship – a cruiser called the _Moryana_ – whose FTL drive suffered a malfunction. The mass effect field became unstable and detonated, destroying the entire ship."

"There's no way there was a ship drive on the Presidium," countered Garrus, "especially not one that would give off that sort of explosion." He tapped a talon against his thigh, thinking hard. "I'd say that a faulty mass accelerator would've had the same effect, but the likelihood of one of those in the vicinity is even less than the drive core."

"I understand that Saren himself is not a biotic," said Liara after a deep breath. "But since Benezia and her supporters joined him, perhaps they've been researching some way to amplify one's natural abilities. While it's true that at the moment no biotic – not even an asari – could pull it off, if the geth have advanced technology that could be implemented into an amp design, perhaps…"

"I'm sure that C-Sec will figure it out," said Shepard, leaning back against her pillows and closing her eyes. Liara resisted the urge to pull the blankets higher on the woman.

"That's something I wanted to talk to you about," said Garrus. Although he couldn't frown in the way asari or other species could, Liara could still read the intent on his face. She could also tell from the subtle way in which he shifted his weight that he was nervous. "C-Sec says that there was someone injured in the implosion. Lieutenant Bailey, the lead officer on the case, said that the Alliance took this person and has kept them under lock and key." The turian inched forward. "But you're a Spectre and an Alliance war hero. You could override the chain of command and get me access to that prisoner. Then we could figure out what really happened."

"No," said Shepard, and the word rang throughout the room. Her eyes snapped open and with her arms on the sides of her bed, she hoisted herself up into a sitting position, every inch the commander that had stared down a krogan when Liara first met her.

"No?" echoed Garrus, "But Shepard, this could be…"

"I said no." Shepard's mouth had retreated into a thin line. Her hands smoothed out the blanket in front of her and a sheen of sweat painted itself across her skin. "While I don't know the specifics, I do know the matter is being looked into. The Council has been informed. They've decided not to pass that information onto C-Sec." Shepard shrugged slightly. "That's all there is to it."

Garrus' shoulders sagged. "And if it's Saren?"

Shepard stared at a crack in the ceiling. "Then… Then the Alliance will owe C-Sec a big fat apology." It was clear that Garrus wasn't pleased with this particular outcome. The Commander sighed sympathetically. "Trust me, Garrus. It's being dealt with."

"I do trust you, Shepard," said Garrus, and it was the teeniest bit defensive.

She smiled. "I know." Her face contorted into a frown. "Liara, can you…?" She made a vague gesture.

Liara put her arm around Shepard and helped the woman slowly lay back down. The Commander's back was sticky with sweat, and Liara felt a quiver of concern. Now she did pull the blankets up higher over Shepard, and received a grateful hum in response.

"Shepard," Liara started, "asari, we can… We have the ability to link our minds to others'. If the beacon is truly causing you this amount of pain, I might be able to identify the source within your mind and help repair whatever damage it's caused."

"Or," said Shepard, "you might do the same damage to yourself. Or maybe find you can do nothing." At Liara's despairing expression, Shepard put her hand to the asari's cheek. "Don't worry, Liara. I'm not checking out yet. There are things I have to do first."

Liara nodded, wishing her nervous system didn't alight at the touch of this woman. For all her social ineptitude, she wasn't blind. She saw the way Lieutenant Alenko and the Commander talked to each other. From a few extranet searches, Liara had discovered that though many humans had bonded with asari, there was still a slight stigma attached. It was born out of ignorance rather than hatred, if the articles were Commander Shepard seemed hardly the type to own one of these prejudiced perspectives, Liara didn't fault the woman for following the dictates of her own biology.

"Get better Shepard," said Tali, coming up beside them. She said something that Liara's translator didn't pick up, then added, "It's an old nursery rhyme that my mother used to tell me when I got really sick. The translation is a little hard, but it's essentially about the stars leading you to health and happiness. It was written after we left Rannoch."

"Thanks Tali," said Shepard. "It was beautiful." She moved her arm from Liara's face to pat Tali's arm. "You take care, you hear? Let me know how your pilgrimage progresses."

"I will," said Tali.

"And you, mister," said Shepard, pointing a finger at Garrus. "Try not to piss anyone off while I'm out for the count."

"No promises," said Garrus softly.

"I feel a nap coming on," said Shepard, "so you guys better scoot out of here before you discover how glamorous I look with drool down my chin."

Liara glanced back over her shoulder one last time to find Shepard memorizing their backs as they left, sadness poured into her eyes. She raised her hand in a soft farewell, and even though it was completely nonsensical, Liara felt her bones creak with foreboding, like this was a more permanent goodbye.

**000**

Hackett sat behind his desk, thumbnail between his teeth as he regarded the datapad in front of him. He'd talked to the top ranking officials in the Alliance parliament, and it had been decided all around that the existence of this second Shepard should be kept concealed from the general populace. The Council knew, key members of the Alliance knew, but otherwise, it was being kept tightly under wraps.

Oh, and Commander Shepard knew. According to Anderson's call, it had gone as well as could be expected. Thank God the Commander had as cool a head as anyone Hackett had ever met. Had to, on Elysium. Of course, she was still ahead of the game – not many people could claim to remain calm when faced with both an impending galactic annihilation and one's own doppelganger.

That this doppelganger was wearing the remains of armor unlike any currently on market was even more puzzling, and even more concerning. If Councillor Sparatus was right – and that was a big _if_ – and the batarian hegemony was somehow responsible, that meant they had access to technology that far outstripped anything in council space. With human colonies pushing closer to the Terminus Systems, it would only be a matter of time before the batarians revealed their hand and used this technology, if it existed, to play out their personal vendetta against humankind.

Which was just about the last thing humankind needed, if even half of what Shepard said was true.

If, however, this Patient B wasn't with the hegemony, that meant she was an unknown and that perhaps even more troubling. Hackett didn't like unknowns. He liked knowing exactly where all the pieces were on the board. He'd asked for the woman's omni-tool, but the external components had been misplaced during… well, whatever the hell had happened up on the Presidium. That meant she still probably had her data memory chip in her arm, but with her condition being somewhat precarious, Command had decided it was best to wait and see what the woman said herself.

He flicked on the datapad and held it up. Following the DNA scans from Patient B – as well as the theories put forward by the Council – Hackett had made it a priority to dig up all the old records relating to Mindoir. He'd really hoped it wouldn't come to this. That attack was a black stain on the Alliance's history, and the only thing that had stopped it from happening again on Elysium was Shepard herself.

The file contained information he already knew. The colony of Mindoir was attacked in 2170. Population before that date was near twenty-thousand people, mostly farmers, and they'd settled predominantly on one corner of the northern continent close to the equator. Vegetation in the area had been reminiscent of that found in Northern California. When the batarians attacked – presumably as a retaliation and warning against humanity's colonization of the Skyllian Verge – a few hundred were killed right off, trying to defend their colony. The rest…

Hackett was a veteran of more than a few wars. He'd seen his fair share of atrocities but reading the report about what happened on Mindoir… He stomach churned and he had to scroll past some of the more elaborate descriptions given by witnesses. He read until the words grew fuzzy, and only then did he pause, leaning over his desk with a frown.

The list of colonists was long. Hackett had been perusing them for the better part of an hour when he got to what he was looking for.

_Theodore Shepard – (Deceased)_

_ Evelyn Shepard –(Deceased) _

_Dierdre Shepard – (Deceased)_

_ Devyn Shepard – (Survived) _

Hackett read the names several times to make sure he had it right. He shoved the datapad into his inside pocket, stood up and walked out the door. He caught a cab to the Alliance hospital, and then, despite the protestations of the nurses, he entered into Shepard's room.

If she'd been sleeping, she wasn't now. Despite her injuries, she still had a soldier's reflexes. He didn't say anything, but held out the datapad to her. She took it with trembling fingers – a by-product of her condition, probably.

She nearly dropped the pad, her breath coming in shaky bursts.

"Who is Deirdre Shepard?" he asked.

Licking her lips, she met him head on. "A ghost," she said. "A member of my family who died in the attack."

"How do you know?" demanded Hackett. "How do you know she's dead?"

"Because I was there," she whispered.

Part of him, a part he didn't like, wanted to insist, wanted to ask if this could've been Patient B down the hall. But the other part, it saw something unnaturally fragile in Shepard's eyes and held back. Instead, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she said, eyes trailing down. "That woman… I've got no sister she could be."

She was hiding something, that much was clear, but Hackett was going to let it slide until they got some answers from Patient B.

He hoped he didn't regret it.

* * *

_Full disclosure: I am not a science-y sort of person. Don't get me wrong - I love science. My brain, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be wired in that particular fashion, however. Thus, if there is anything out of place in this chapter, uh, my bad. Also, I'm not sure it's a particularly good idea to post this, but I'm doing it anyways since I need a break from my pile of nonfiction work. Thank you so much for reading! :) _

_P.S. After the lovely The PantsofDoom pointed it out, I'm going to go on record here and say that yes, I know that Saren is, technically, a biotic. Liara doesn't know that because of reasons. (Vague answers are vague.)  
_


	3. Three

"My heart suspects more than mine eye can see."

**Shakespeare, **_**Titus Andronicus**_

Anderson insisted on being present for the interrogation. Hackett had stared at him with that blank look of his, the one that was always so impossible to read, before giving a minute nod. The only condition had been that Anderson was not allowed to be in the room during the actual interrogation. Something about _letting his feelings for Shepard get in the way_. Anderson had very nearly argued that Hackett was nearly as prejudiced as himself, but he could see the smoulder behind his old friend's eyes that said he was damned lucky as it was.

They'd wheeled Patient B's bed into a room with a two-way mirror. It was an inelegant solution, but it was the only way they could figure to have both he and Shepard observe the proceedings without being visible. If they'd woken the woman under the guise that she was in a shared hospital room, she would never have believed it for a second – nobody interrogates a prisoner when there might be a breach in confidentiality. This was also the reason the two-way mirror was going to cause questions. If she were even half as crafty as the real Shepard, she'd question its purpose right away.

Shepard stared through the window at the woman in the bed. The more the bruising receded, the more her flesh knitted together, the more Patient B looked like the woman she claimed to be – the woman her DNA said she _must_ be. The woman she couldn't be. The woman who was currently sitting next to him.

"You all right?" asked Anderson, placing a hand on Shepard's shoulder. His protégé looked weak and pale, though whether it was anxiety over the interrogation or due to her deteriorating condition, he didn't know.

She nodded, though her body listed off to one side of her chair. "Yeah," she said. "Or as much as can be expected."

"If this starts to get too much for you, I'm going to remove you," said Anderson.

"And miss what she has to say?" said Shepard, raising her eyebrows. "Are you kidding? I can't wait to hear this."

That made two of them.

The door open and Hackett strode into the room. For once, he wasn't wearing his Alliance blues, but rather standard-issue fatigues. It was odd to see him that way, but even for his age, he looked dangerous, like a great cat that had grown quiet but not complacent. His eyes sifted over Anderson and Shepard, mouth drawing tight, before he strode into the room. The door clicked closed behind him, and Anderson couldn't help but clasp the butt of his pistol.

"Expecting trouble?" asked Shepard.

"Something about this sets me on edge," he admitted.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at him. "I'd be pretty concerned if it didn't."

Hackett squeezed the contents of a syringe into Patient B's IV drip and then pocketed the needle, backing up to a chair positioned at the foot of the bed. He took up a datapad and crossed one leg over the other, the picture of casualness. Anderson forgot sometimes that Hackett wasn't a man to be trifled with. He'd never seen the Admiral raise his voice in anger, never seen him made a violent move outside battle (the same, alas, could not be said for Anderson himself), but in that moment, in that utter ease with which the Admiral waited for their prisoner to awaken, Anderson couldn't help but think that this, right here, this was why Hackett had made it to Admiral already despite the relatively few years between them.

Patient B's eyes began to roll around under her eyelids until those lashes fluttered open like butterflies. Comprehension was slow to sink in as she reached out her limbs to stretch, only to retract them quickly. Pain winced across her face as she realized not only the extent of her injuries, but that she was cuffed to the bed as well. When she noticed the man at the foot of her bed, her brows sank over her eyes.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the high security section of the Alliance hospital on the Citadel," said Hackett without looking up from his datapad.

"Very funny," she snarled. "Now where am I really?"

Now Hackett set the datapad in his lap and raised his eyes to the woman. "Is there a particular reason you don't believe me?"

"Maybe because the Citadel was turned into a morgue by the Reapers?" snapped the woman. "Or because you and Anderson were staring at me like I'd grown a second head the last time I woke up?" Her lower lip trembled slightly. "Or the fact that after what Anderson and I just went through, he should be in worse shape than me, not better."

The weight of Shepard's eyes came to rest on him, but Anderson focused ahead. His fingers drummed against his pistol.

"Care to elaborate?" asked Hackett.

"If you were really Hackett, I wouldn't have to," she retorted. She strained against her cuff, her eyes lingered on the mirror. "Best guess is that one of us is indoctrinated, and my gut says it's not me."

"Indoctrinated?" asked Hackett. He leaned forward. "And just who would indoctrinate me?"

But Patient B screwed her lips shut and glared at him. She swiped her good hand in his direction, then frowned harder when nothing happened. Anderson had no idea what she was doing until Hackett reached into his pocket and pulled out an amp barely larger than Anderson's thumbnail. "Looking for this? I had it removed after your little display last time. It really is remarkable technology. Far better than anything we have now."

"You don't even recognize the amps you helped commission." Patient B shut her eyes. "They're trying to get into my head, that's it. This is all some delusion. I don't know what the Reapers are hoping to achieve. Maybe it's just payback because I keep blowing up their shit."

Anderson frowned. This woman kept talking about the Reapers like she had intimate knowledge of their existence, and that raised another concern – was she somehow affiliated with Saren? Or had she found some other Prothean beacon? Or had she just heard the reference somewhere – though God knew where – and her deluded mind had filled in the gaps?

"The asari on Feros," said Shepard quietly, face crumpled into concentration. "She said that she underestimated Saren's influence on her. That she and Benezia started believing in his cause once they joined up with him."

"Indoctrination?" queried Anderson.

Shepard shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But if he's able to brainwash people into believing in his cause, and he's able to somehow engineer doppelgangers that think they're the people they imitate…" Her silence said it all. A chill ran down Anderson spine, as though someone had come in from the cold and run a finger the length of it.

Hackett appeared to be having the same thought. "Tell me," he said, "what do you know about Saren Aterius?"

Those brown eyes flew open and stared at them with unabashed befuddlement. "Saren?" she repeated. "What the hell does he have to do with anything?"

"Answer the question," said Hackett.

Her lips quirked to one side, and Anderson felt a resurgence of that undefinable emotion. It was something he'd seen Shepard do all too often when annoyed. "What do I know about Saren?" she said. "I know that he was working for the Reapers that he attacked Eden Prime. I know he led Geth heretics on a killing spree across the Terminus Systems. Oh, and I know that I shot him in the head three years ago."

There was a line of tension between Hackett's shoulders. "Mostly right," said Hackett, "but how could you have killed him three years ago when the attack on Eden Prime happened only a month and a half ago?"

Patient B started to laugh. "God, either they're laying it on real thick here or I've finally cracked. I always suspected it was just a matter of time." She ran the back of her uncuffed hand over her brow. "He couldn't have attacked Eden Prime a month and a half ago. It would've been utterly pointless. The Reapers were already using Earth like their own personal snack bar." This was said utterly nonchalantly, but Anderson had spent enough time with soldiers to see that fragility behind her eyes. Whatever she thought, whatever she said, _something_ had happened to this woman. Even if what she said was completely ludicrous, some part of it was real for her.

Silence hunched over the three of them expectantly. Hackett kept his cool. "You want to explain how you learned about the Reapers? Their existence is classified."

"Did I not just tell you that they'd invaded Earth?" demanded Patient B. "Not to mention Palaven, Thessia, Sur'Kesh and pretty much every other inhabited planet. I'd hardly call that classified." She scoffed.

"Humour me," said Hackett. "From the beginning, if you could." It was a test – a test to see how much this woman knew. How much Saren might know.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, and Anderson was sure, for half a second, that there was no way any operative could've learned about that tic of Shepard's. He did his best to dismiss the notion.

"As I told the real Anderson when it happened," said Patient B after a big breath, "there was a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. Saren's geth were trying to destroy what was left of it when Kaidan Alenko, Ashley Williams and I arrived. We took them out, but the Lieutenant got too close and some sort of tractor beam threatened to pull him into the beacon's radius. I pushed him out of the way and was caught. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the medbay of the old _Normandy_ with Doctor Chakwas looking over me and some muddled and disgusting visions swimming in my head." She looked between them. "Happy?"

This was entirely too strange to be allowed. Anderson tried to stave off the gooseflesh that threatened to crawl up his back. She'd gotten not only the gist of the situation on Eden Prime, but some very real details as well. Nobody but the Council, the Normandy crew, and the upper echelons of the Alliance government knew the full sitrep. If she knew these things, it meant that she had an inside contact, a mole somewhere inside. Why this shadowy menace – Anderson couldn't stop his mind from swinging back in Saren's direction – would have use of a decoy was a major question. The amount of information they must've amassed would surely be enough to hinder Shepard's efforts.

What could be gained? So far, the woman seemed utterly unhinged. Perhaps the explosion had done something to her brain? There was no invasion on the home planets. There was no Reaper invasion underway. The Citadel was perfectly fine… Yet she seemed well-versed not only in factual events, but highly classified factual events. She was combining true facts with utter fabrications, and what's more, she believed every word she said.

"Then," continued the woman, "Saren led us on a merry chase around the galaxy until we found the Conduit. We stopped the Reapers from invading – at that point, anyways – and the day was saved for another two years until shit really started to hit the fan."

"She knows about the Conduit?" breathed Shepard.

"If she's really an agent sent by Saren, it's hardly surprising," said Anderson, trying not to sound as troubled as he was. "But why is she discussing things like they've already happened?"

"What year do you think it is?" inquired Hackett.

Patient B frowned, lines fingering across her face. "2186," she said, "though since you say Eden Prime happened only a month and a half ago, I'm guessing you won't accept that answer."

"Somebody's been messing with your head," said Hackett.

"No, really?" retorted Patient B. She gestured between herself and the Admiral. "I thought that this was an entirely normal conversation."

"If you tell me who you really are," continued Hackett, "then we can help get you back to normal."

"I told you," said Patient B, sliding once again into irritation, "I'm Commander Devyn Shepard. Mindoir survivor. N7 graduate. Commanding Officer on the _Normandy_."

Hackett sent a look through the window that Anderson didn't fully understand. "Tell me, does the name Deirdre Shepard mean anything to you?"

Shepard sucked in a large breath, her hands clenching white on the armrests of her wheelchair. Her eyes stared intently at the two people in the room, and she leaned forward, face intent.

Patient B appeared to stop breathing. She swallowed loud enough that Anderson heard it clear across the room. "Deirdre Shepard died on Mindoir. She doesn't exist anymore."

"That's what the official records say," said Hackett. "but Councillor Sparatus put forward the theory that you were Commander Shepard's lost identical twin who somehow survived the attack on Mindoir. That the batarians had, well, to use your word, _indoctrinated_ you for some covert mission."

Digging her head into her pillow, Patient B said, "Now I know I'm dreaming. Sparatus believing a crazy conspiracy theory that flies in the face of all evidence? Yeah, I'll just dismiss that claim." She swallowed again. "If you're trying to convince me that this is real life, you're doing a piss poor job. The Reapers have finally gotten their paws on me, and they're trying to break me. That's what's going on. You're some figment of my imagination, some tendril of psychosis they've snaked into my mind. But I know that this isn't real life, know that it can't be."

"And why not?"

"Because Anderson's alive," she said, her voice clogging with emotion. Anderson was startled to see her eyes sheen with unshed tears, to hear that in some roundabout way, those tears were for him. "Because the Citadel is intact. Because there are still human beings alive. Because as much as I want it to be true, as pretty a lie as it is, I can't accept it." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't believe it, because I watched it all burn."

**000**

Lieutenant Bailey didn't look overly surprised when Garrus told him the bad news. In fact, if Garrus' ever growing repository of human facial expressions was correct, he was the exact opposite. Bailey reached underneath his desk and pulled out a bottle, pouring himself an amber coloured drink. He swirled it around. "I'd offer you a glass, but, well, you know."

Now, Garrus didn't consider himself a good turian by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing a C-Sec officer drinking on the job rankled something in him. It was yet another reason why C-Sec couldn't be counted on to do the work that mattered. Bailey must've been better at reading alien expressions than Garrus, because he said, "I only pull this out when I know I'm going to be filing reports for the rest of the day, and only when the day up until that point has been far from pleasant." He sipped at his drink.

"Whoever or whatever they've got in there, I'm not getting in to see what it is," said Garrus. He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He'd been sure that Shepard would back him up on this, but she'd toed the line.

"I'm not surprised," said Bailey, and raised an eyebrow at the expression he got from Garrus. "I don't know your Commander Shepard personally, but from what I understand, she's pretty much the ideal Alliance soldier, right? It would make sense that she'd back away from causing a commotion with her own people."

"But she's a Spectre," objected Garrus.

Bailey shrugged. "She's been one for a hell lot less time than she's been a marine. Maybe she's just settling into her new position." Here Bailey took another sip. "Or maybe she's just too damn loyal to the Alliance and won't do anything to compromise them."

"She said that the Council knows."

"Yeah, that I believe. Got the word from the higher ups to drop the case and surrender any and all evidence. Apparently, this thing is way above my pay grade. But that doesn't change anything." Bailey set down his glass. "Human beings are the new kids on the block. We haven't learned to play well with others yet. Hell, we barely know how to keep it civil on our own planet. It would make sense that Shepard's trying to keep it hushed up to protect her own species. As a fellow human, can't say I really take offense at it."

"Then why are you telling me?" demanded Garrus. "You're essentially claiming she's choosing humanity over the rest of the galaxy." It wasn't that he believed what Bailey was saying, not exactly, but Spectres were supposed to work for the betterment of the galaxy. They were supposed to root out corruption and crime where they found it, no matter the consequences. If Shepard wasn't prepared to do that, and was only prepared to safeguard the other species only so far… No. Shepard wouldn't do that. How many times had she pushed him out of danger? Warned him of hostiles? She couldn't be like that.

Bailey frowned. "Don't put words into my mouth. I have no doubt that Shepard cares about the rest of the galaxy – I saw that interview between her and the woman with fifty names – but she's Alliance through and through. You really think she'd step up if it were her military doing the evil deeds instead of letting internal politics run their course?"

Admittedly, Garrus hadn't known Shepard long – just over a month – but she didn't seem the type to lie down and let bad things happen. If he were being honest, she reminded him a little bit of himself (though he was sure he was giving himself a bigger compliment than her, there). Both of them wanted to do the right thing, and both of them knew that the rules wouldn't always allow them to do that. But where Garrus thought the whole rulebook should be tossed out the airlock, Shepard was more reserved – she broke those rules only when she had to, and she broke them with careful calculation. He was coming to see the beauty in that, in picking your battles, in letting ideals lead you, but not at the expense of either common sense or decency.

He thought of her in that hospital bed. He was no expert on human illness, but the Commander… she didn't look well. She was far from the vibrant woman he'd met in the Council Tower, and though she still kept that steely flint behind her eyes, there was something else there too: fear.

"Yeah," said Garrus, "I do. If the Alliance was up to something, she'd be the first one to step in if she thought it was wrong."

Bailey nodded a few times and then stared at the wall a few moments. He tapped his fingers against the desk. "I've already turned over most of the evidence to the Council officials," he said.

"Most?" echoed Garrus.

"I could get fired for this," said Bailey with a sigh as he reached for a drawer. "Hell, I could get thrown in prison with the scum I helped put there." He removed a small bin and handed it to Garrus. Inside were small bits of electronics. Though they were in rough shape, the turian had been around omni-tools enough to know what they looked like after being blown up. He looked a question at Bailey who answered, "I won't insult your intelligence by telling you what that is but I will tell you that according to all those reports I filed, it doesn't exist."

The only question Garrus could come up with is, "Why?"

"Something's changing," said Bailey. "Don't quite know what it is yet, but my gut tells me it's going to be big. First an attack on a human colony, then the first human Spectre down for the count, now some strange detonation on the Presidium where the only witness is caught in the human Alliance military system? Something's up, and I don't like being kept in the dark." He jerked his chin at the remnants. "Won't get much out of that. Primary chip would be in the arm, so a lot of the data won't be in those bits there. You might be able to dig around in the recent history though, find a trail of impressions left behind."

"I meant," said Garrus, "why are you giving this to me?"

"I hear you're a rule breaker," replied Bailey, the corner of his mouth twisted upwards. "But more than that, you've got the ear of a Spectre – and one you think is honourable. If you're right about her, and the data you collect sheds light on what the hell is going on, you and she might have a chance to root out whatever's going on."

Garrus thought about that. He trusted Shepard, really, but he couldn't shake the sense that she knew more in that hospital room than she was letting on. He gently put the lid back on the box, and nodded at Bailey.

**000**

Hackett hadn't gotten as far as he had by being sentimental. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was well known for being a hard ass, for expecting the best, and for doggedly pursuing his interests until the end. So when Patient B came close to tears, he told himself that the sooner he got to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on, the better it would be for everyone.

"Burn?" he said. "Watched what all burn?"

"When I woke up and saw you, I thought… God, I don't know what I thought. I thought I'd done it. That I'd saved the day, just in the nick of time, like usual. But then you didn't know me, and…"

Hackett leaned forward, clasping his hands together. He resisted the urge to run his hands down his face. "Listen, I don't doubt for an instant that you believe what you're saying, but it's not true."

"Is this the part where you pull the _good cop_ card on me?" she asked.

"If you knew me half as well as you seem to think you do," he said, "you'd know that I've been doing the _good cop_ since you woke up."

Surprisingly, that garnered him a smile as she opened her eyes. "True enough." The smile melted away and Patient B took a deep breath. "It's different, you know."

"What is?" asked Hackett, unable to help himself.

"You not trusting me," she said, a hairline fracture weaving through her words. "You and Anderson, you've always had my back, even when I made it tough." She ran a shaking hand through her hair. "It's weird, even if you're not really you."

This was moving into dangerous territory. A road diverged before him, and once again, it came down to this woman's motives. On one side, there was a damaged woman who'd undergone God knew what and come out firmly believing that she was Commander Devyn Shepard. Hell, even her DNA said as much. With the level of genetic and psychological reformatting needed for either of those things, it was entirely possible she had no idea she was an imposter. Alternatively, if she were simply an exemplary actress, that opened up a whole other slew of problems, the most notable being what sort of game she was playing. If she knew Shepard was in trouble, knew that ties with the Council were rapidly fraying, what could she hope to gain?

Hackett did not enjoy being in the dark. He didn't like dealing with unknowns. It was part of the reason he was keeping such close tabs on Shepard's pursuit of Saren. Anderson was sure that this was all the turian's plot to take out humanity, but there was some lingering undertone in the air that Hackett distrusted. This woman, as nonsensical as some of her ideas were, seemed to have some intimate knowledge of the Reapers. Either it was pure speculation, or someone was feeding it to her.

And since the details she provided were a little too on the nose, he had to assume that she had an external source, whether or not she knew it. He wished he knew the specifics, because he'd handle them in exceedingly different ways. As it was, he was going to have to err on the side of caution.

"How about," he said, crossing one leg over the other, "we make a little deal. You answer one of my questions, and I'll answer one of yours."

Distrust spiked across her face. "And what's to stop you from lying? I don't even believe you're who you say you are. "

He almost smiled. "I could say the same."

Patient B slumped her shoulders. "And I guess you're going first, are you?"

Rather than answer her question, he jumped right in. "How do you know you're Commander Shepard?"

She thought about it a lot longer than he expected. "How does anyone know who they really are?" she asked finally. "What makes us, well, us?" Hackett opened his mouth to tell her to skip the philosophical meanderings, but she cut him off. "Assuming that you're really Hackett from 2183 – and I'm not saying I believe it, because I sure as hell don't – I can tell you honestly that I'm not the Devyn Shepard I was then. I'm sure you've noticed my upgrades?"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you just asked me three questions there," said Hackett, ignoring the thunder that roiled under Patient B's skin at the condescension. "But yes, we have noticed."

Though her expression was still stormy, she twisted her lips into the semblance of a smile. "I always wonder how much you could change and still be the same person. Physically, I'm not the person I was when I stopped Saren." Her features folded up. "Psychologically… Maybe less so. But I remember living my life. I remember loving people. I remember making the tough calls. If we are our memories, then I sure as hell am Devyn Shepard."

That, at least, was something they could almost agree on, even excusing the liberal application of the past tense.

"And your question?" he asked.

She licked her lips, eyes skittering over to the mirror. "You said that it's been a month and a half since Eden Prime. You said that, but you're still treating me like I'm undesirable number one. You never told me, _Commander Shepard doesn't exist_ so… I guess my question is, why not? How are you so sure that I'm_ not_ Devyn Shepard?"

Seconds ticked past as they stared each other down. Did he dare show his hand? Did she really have no idea? "I think you already know the answer to that question," he said.

There was a circle of white around her irises. "Say it."

"I know that you're not Commander Devyn Shepard," he said, "because she's sitting right outside."

Patient B turned her stare on the glass, and if Hackett hadn't known any better, he would say that she was trying to will it to disappear. She was the very picture of denial, down to the wobbling of her bottom lip. "I don't believe you."

"That's your prerogative."

Something inside of her seemed to crack, as though her foundation was unstable and her entire inner structure had begun to collapse onto itself. "What are you playing at?" she asked, though Hackett knew the question was not directed towards himself. "What if this was all some sick game that Cerberus was playing with me the whole time?" She shook her head. "But it was so real. How could they possibly know…? There's no way they could…" Patient B stared at her hands. "That's what indoctrinated people always say."

Hackett's ears perked up. He knew the name Cerberus better than he'd like. More and more cells were going rogue from the Alliance these days, disappearing under the radar. They'd lost valuable people, valuable equipment and more intel than was safe. The thought that Cerberus had done something to this woman, something to make her believe that she was Commander Shepard, to have even her DNA prove her right…

But how? Though he, Anderson and Udina had been in talks about Shepard as a potential Spectre candidate for months, that hardly seemed like enough time to genetically modify another human being, implant false memories, and engineer the least subtle infiltration in history. Unless their aim was to sow dissention amongst the races – but why? It was no secret that Cerberus was breaking away to tend to their xenophobic agenda, but a human Spectre was good for everyone. Why undermine the political significance, unless…

Unless her entrance had been mistimed. Unless this woman, this Patient B, was supposed to have been quietly slipped into Shepard's place. With Cerberus guiding her, with Council secrets at her disposal, she could've worked behind the scenes to advance, quote unquote, human interests.

But if the goal was to be a perfect impersonation of Shepard, why add all the upgrades? Why add the fake additions to the very real memories?

"What's your relationship to Cerberus?"

Patient B snapped out of her thoughts at the question as though she'd just remembered he was there. "I was injured once," she said, though her body language hinted at something darker. "Cerberus put me back together. I worked with them for a while when our interests matched but we… Let's just say the Illusive Man has a method I don't agree with." She frowned. "If I were programed by them, indoctrinated by them, why would they have put me at odds with him?" She sank her head down into her hands, flinching when she moved her arms.

"Did Deirdre Shepard really die on Mindoir?" asked Hackett.

To his overwhelming surprise, she started to laugh, though it crested and crashed in a storm of broken notes. "Deirdre Shepard died in every possible way but one that day," she said.

Hackett chewed on that for a moment. "So she's still alive."

"In a manner of speaking," said Patient B. "You see, there were never two Shepard sisters on Mindoir. There was a brother, though, a little boy who died when the slavers hit. And Deirdre watched it happen."

The revelation, the understanding was slow to come before it doused him like ice water. "A boy named Devyn."

"Bingo," she said, and a tear traced the curve of her cheek. Hackett barely had time to process that information before she leaned forward, her cuff clanging against her bedframe. "I want to see her. The other Shepard."

**000**

Ashley waited for Kaidan in the bar. It was a seedy little place not too far from the hospital. It catered mostly to soldiers like herself who were waiting for news. Her beer was a cheap bitter brew from somewhere near the Traverse, and Ashley wished not for the first time for a nice craft beer from Earth. Not that she'd ever say so. No, drinking this swill reminded her that she was a marine.

It wouldn't have been difficult for her to head back to the hospital after telling the others about Shepard, but she'd found herself a cheap hotel and holed up there instead. The mattress had been a welcome relief after the sleeper pods aboard the ship, and for a good six hours, she was dead to the world. When she'd first enlisted, Ashley had kept vigil for every one of her injured comrades. After a while, she realized that if she were going to have any chance at survival, she was going to have to learn to compartmentalize.

That was why, as worried and nervous as she was about Shepard (and, by extension, all of her Shepard-related missions), she shut down her brain and allowed her body to rest. She would need it if, God forbid, the worst happened. She would need to be more than a sleep deprived husk of a person.

And speaking of…

Kaidan looked like shit. If she hadn't known any better, she would've said he was the one being hospitalized. His hair was in disarray and it looked like he hadn't changed his clothes since the day before. He plunked down next to her, hand reaching for the menu.

"Hungry?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

A nod was her answer. Lines were woven into the skin of his face, and not for the first time in the past few days, Ashley was jabbed with sympathy. Poor guy was head over heels Shepard. Anyone with eyes could see it, and really, who could blame him? They'd talked a little – not a lot, because getting information out of the LT was like stripping paint – and from what she'd gathered, Kaidan wasn't great with _that wonderful emotion called love_ owing to some serious trust issues. But Shepard, well, that woman garnered trust faster than anyone Ashley had ever met.

"How's she doing?"

Kaidan dropped the menu and ran his hands down his face, before sinking his elbows on the table. "Honestly, I don't know. They say she's awake but not able to see visitors at this time. That she's, quote unquote, currently unavailable."

Frowning, Ashley asked, "What does that mean?"

To look at Kaidan's face, you'd think his whole family had been massacred. "I don't know."

Ashley tried to imagine life without Shepard. More than likely, she'd be transferred away from the _Normandy_ and thrown on some spit of a colony somewhere to serve the remainder of her career groundside. The thought filled her with a howling cavern of loss, and it wasn't just for her career. Though they had their own opinions and those opinions didn't always mesh, Ashley genuinely enjoyed Shepard's company. The woman was compassionate, but she knew how to get the job done. Ashley had to respect that.

She was also one of the few people to whom Ashley felt she could confess her lineage and have it make zero difference. If she got the chance, now.

"She'll be fine," said Ashley, and she was sure the mantra had slipped over her tongue so many times that she would be saying it involuntarily for weeks. "If Shepard can beat fifty thousand batarians, she can beat this."

"Yeah," said Kaidan with a sigh. "I just can't help but wonder… why her?"

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Instead of you, you mean? With the beacon?"

"I mean," clarified Kaidan, "all of it."

This wasn't a new conversation for the two of them. They'd talked like this after the beacon had knocked Shepard out for a few days. Ashley had broached the subject of religion with Shepard recently, and Shepard had seem surprised but not judgmental to learn of Ashley's faith. When Ash had turned it back around, however, she'd seen for the first time that although everyone saw Shepard as a capable, charismatic leader, there was a part of her that was still, well, human.

"If you'd been on Mindoir that day," Shepard had said, "you wouldn't believe in God either."

"But what about Elysium?" Ashley countered. "Don't you think that would qualify as a miracle?"

"What? That I managed to hold off a horde of batarians?" Shepard scoffed. "Hardly. I did that all on my own. I still have some scar tissue around the base of my implant, you know, from where I nearly fried myself to keep up my biotics. There was no divine hand interfering there, Ash. There was just me and my stubborn resolve to win."

That last part, at least, they could agree on. Ashley sipped her beer. "This is the part where I say that God has a plan for everything, right?"

"You believe that?"

Ashley looked Kaidan dead in the eye. "Absolutely."

"I wish I had your faith," said Kaidan.

"Yeah? Well, sometimes I wish I had your ability to hurl things at walls. As far as stress relievers go, I would think that would be great."

"I wouldn't know," said Kaidan, eyes down.

Ashley shrugged and watched as the LT ordered a sandwich. She almost mentioned that ordering food from this scummy little place wasn't a good idea, but she held off because he looked like he needed something edible more than something good. Though, who knew? Maybe this place didn't have either.

She wondered what it would be like to be in love with your CO. Probably hard as hell. Silence stretched over the table as she considered what sort of couple Kaidan and Shepard would make. They'd have damn attractive children, that's for sure – Kaidan was easy on the eyes, and Ashley knew from co-ed barracks that more than one marine thought Shepard wasn't too bad either. Shepard was more assertive, more likely to be vocal, more likely to head in without thought for herself. Kaidan hung back a bit more, choosing his battles wisely, and offering a carefully rationed plan of attack when they encountered a problem. Both were too idealistic.

According to the couple scale the Williams sisters had come up with, they'd figure about a seven. Mostly because Kaidan had no idea what he was doing.

"You love her, don't you?" The question slipped from Ashley's mouth before she'd even fully committed to asking it. In response to Kaidan's wide eyes and gaping mouth, she rolled her eyes. "I hate to tell you, Casanova, but you're not exactly subtle."

His sandwich was set down in front of him and he huddled around it like she might try to steal it. "That would be against regs," he said.

"No, if you screwed Shepard in the CIC while we were on duty, _that_ would be against regs," countered Ashley, taking no small amount of pleasure from the way Kaidan managed to be simultaneously offended and intrigued. "But being in love? You can't help that."

"I've got it under control," he said, though she required no defense from him.

"Okay, then," she said, finishing her beer. "But if you're curious, I don't think her feelings for you are strictly platonic, either."

Ashley didn't know what was worse: the way his face lit up like it had gone supernova, or how, seconds later, it dropped as though it had just rediscovered gravity, anxiety and fear smashing into pretty brown eyes.

**000**

Anderson couldn't help it; he stared at the side of Shepard's face. He watched the tears pool in the creases of her eyes, watched her shoulders hunch over, and for a moment, he could picture her after Mindoir, destroyed and grief stricken. He'd read the reports, he'd dealt with some of the refugees leftover from Eden Prime, but although he'd known, he hadn't _known_. He found himself wondering for a moment if he'd ever really known this woman next to him.

It passed as soon as it came, and then she was just Shepard again, eyes more intense than he'd seen them since Elysium.

"Who the hell is she?" demanded Shepard. If he didn't see the tears, he wouldn't have known there were any.

He licked his lips and meant to tell her that they were going to figure it out. What came out was, "Is it true?"

Shepard kept silent.

From inside the room, Hackett said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Patient B jutted out her chin. Shepard had done the exact same thing when the Council had refused to listen, the same thing when he'd insisted she take the _Normandy_. "You're telling me I'm not Commander Shepard, that I can't be, but I just told you something nobody else knows. Everyone who could tell you about Devyn is either dead or rotting in batarian space somewhere. And if whoever is out there _is_ Commander Shepard, she damn well knows it." Those brown eyes stared out at her counterpart.

Beside him, Shepard's hands went white around the armrests of her chair as she hauled herself to her feet, listing in one direction and then another before putting a hand up to the window to steady herself. Anderson reached out to steady her, but she batted his hand away almost at the expense of her own balance. She took one wooden step and then another past him, like some windup version of a soldier. Her hand gripped the door knob and she paused. Turning slightly, she wrenched his pistol from his holster and threw open the door.

Though weak, though barely standing, Shepard planted her feet and used a two handed grip on the pistol, aiming it at Patient B's head.

Hackett stood, not coming into the line of fire, not quite. He reached out a hand. "Commander, what are you doing?"

"Who the hell are you?" yelled Shepard. "Nobody knows about that."

"Isn't that what I said?" asked Patient B faintly. As Anderson rounded the corner, he realized it wasn't that she was afraid of being shot. In fact, there was a distinct lack of attention being paid to the gun. Instead, the woman's brown eyes scraped every nook and wrinkle and curve of Shepard's face. No, if there was fear, it was because she was now confronted with a possibility she hadn't fully considered. She swallowed. "As for who I am, I told you – I'm Commander Devyn Shepard."

"There can't be two of us," said Shepard, with a slight shake to the gun.

"No," agreed Patient B, "there can't."

"Shepard," said Anderson, "maybe we should put the gun down." When she didn't budge, he slowly stepped up behind her and put a hand on the barrel, pushing it down. Lips to her ear, he added, "We can't figure out what she knows or how she knows it if she's dead."

The Commander lowered the gun, but it was clear that she was less than pleased about the whole thing. "Somebody could've figured out about Devyn. There was a woman who escaped the batarian slavers. There could be another."

"Talitha," said Patient B, hand wrapping around her blanket.

Hackett and Anderson shared a look that said everything that needed to be said. Shepard hadn't said a word about the woman she'd helped talk down a few weeks ago, but Lieutenant Girard had sung her praises to anyone who would listen. If this woman had been in some way brainwashed, it was a very recent thing – more recent, even, than the attack on Eden Prime. The primary difference, however, was that Saren had access to all the available information regarding that particular event. How would he know about Talitha? He'd have to have more agents than they'd thought.

"You've been brainwashed to think you're me," said Shepard, "probably by Saren."

Patient B blinked for a few moments before frowning heavily. "I don't know why you're all so stuck on Saren. If it were anyone, it would be Cerberus, and I already know that's impossible, because if Cerberus wanted to brainwash me, they'd have done it and I'd have nice tingly feelings about them right now."

"You could be lying," said Hackett.

"Like I was about Devyn?" asked Patient B. "Look, you guys are the ones who are acting like the past few years never happened. Hell, you haven't even discussed indoctrination or the Reapers in any concrete way, but you're willing to jump on me the second I say anything remotely related. Tell me, where did you just come from? Feros? Because if you're supposed to be me, you sure haven't made it to Virmire yet."

"Virmire?" asked Hackett.

Patient B fixed her gaze on them one by one, then sighed. "Don't know why I'm bothering to talk to figments of my imagination," she muttered, "but… Virmire's important. That's where you see what indoctrination is capable of, but more than that, that's where you meet Sovereign."

"Saren's ship?" Shepard wasn't impressed.

"It's more than a ship," ground out Patient B. "Sovereign is a damned Reaper."

**000**

Tali poked through the pieces and was glad that Garrus couldn't see her expression. Her new friend practically thrummed with anticipation, his fingers drumming on the edges of his knees as he leaned forward. She didn't know what he was expecting. Everyone knew (okay, maybe not _everyone_ but a lot of people) that quarians were masters with technology. They had to be; their very survival aboard the flotilla demanded it. But they weren't wizards, and that was too bad, because Garrus seemed to be expecting magic.

"It's in pretty rough shape," she hedged.

"I know," said Garrus, "but all the essential components are there. It's just a matter of recreating the original model. What can't be saved, we can salvage from other omni-tools."

She forgot sometimes that Garrus had a working understanding of electronics. Sure, he was nowhere in her league – and was probably willing to admit it, if he was coming to her for help – but he understood the fundamentals. She figured it must have something to do with his time in the military. She didn't know much about turians, but she was willing to bet that he'd learned electronics specifically to deal with the equipment used in warfare.

Tali, on the other hand, knew next to nothing about warfare. She'd be allowed to learn the maintenance of arms systems when she returned to the fleet after her pilgrimage, and not before.

She did know about omni-tools, though, and no matter what Kaidan said, the Nexus model far and away outstripped the Logic Arrest, period. Of course, it was sort of a moot point, since the omni-tool in front of her was neither. In fact, it didn't appear to be any tool she recognized. The size and shape of the computer microframe suggested that it was a Savant – only asari liked to use the smooth, round the edges on the anterior modem. It was purely aesthetic, though Tali was sure that a Serrice Council representative would disagree with her… But the fabricator was weird. It had nearly twice the capacity as was usual, even though the medigel extensions were roughly the same size and shape of the military issued components available now through Elkoss.

Perhaps the strangest thing, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no components for the production of omni-gel. Not even a valve that would hint that a storage container existed. Bizarre.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. "It's unlike any omni-tool I've ever seen."

"So I wasn't the only one who noticed," said Garrus, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You'd have to be blind not to see it." Tali picked up the sensor analysis pack, which seemed lightyears ahead of anything that was on the market now. She would've said that it was custom – right before she went to the inventor and pleaded for his secrets – but the uniform nature of the cuts and the slight grooves on the outer edges suggested widespread manufacturing. "I notice you didn't answer my question."

Garrus ran a hand over his fringe. "Does it matter?"

Tali raised her eyebrows, and then so he could see her curiosity, tilted her head. "Garrus Vakarian, did you steal this?"

"I, no," he said, flustered. He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees. "You remember that weird explosion on the Presidium?"

This was going somewhere bad, very bad. "Yes," she said.

"I have a contact in C-Sec who wants to get to the bottom of this as much as we do. He smuggled this piece of evidence out of the official records."

Tali nearly dropped the small plastic container holding the pieces. Her people already had a bad enough reputation outside the Migrant Fleet. More often than not, they were seen as thieves and vermin. Every time she walked into those ship showrooms, she could feel the eyes of the volus and asari salespeople on her, watching for any sign of criminal behaviour. And now Garrus had handed her stolen technology, and not only that, but what appeared to be extremely _advanced_ stolen technology. From a crime scene!

"First of all, there is no _we_ about this," said Tali, shoving the container back to him. "Shepard said that they have this completely under control. She said that the Council is investigating, and that we should leave it alone." He wouldn't accept the container, so she set it down – gently, because as much as she was annoyed, the technology within was still amazing – on the table next to them. "Second of all, what are people going to think if they find me with stolen technology, Garrus? You're a C-Sec agent. You know how it's going to look."

"It's a risk," agreed Garrus, which really did nothing to squash Tali's fears. "But Shepard… You had to see it. She didn't look well the last time we saw her, did she?"

There was a pause, and Tali wondered if that was actual concern she read on his face, or simply the desire to follow the course Shepard had denied him. In the few weeks that Tali had known Shepard, she'd come to like and respect her acting captain. Shepard treated her fairly, and asked about quarian customs and beliefs without a hint of prejudice. It was refreshing and comforting, given the mistreatment Tali had gotten when arriving on the Citadel. She also knew that Shepard had helped Garrus figure out an old case, and if the rumours were true, it hadn't ended peacefully.

But Garrus wasn't wrong. Tali had never known any humans before joining the crew of the _Normandy_, but she was guessing that the Commander wasn't supposed to have those dark circles under her eyes or skin that pale.

"I guess not," conceded Tali.

"So it's possible, with that Prothean beacon in her brain, that she's not thinking clearly?"

Tali could feel the conversation veering in a direction she didn't like, but she had no choice but to nod.

"I just want to make sure nothing's up," said Garrus. "I just want the information. The second we find anything, we take it to Shepard."

"You know that we won't have access to the greater information stores, right? Those would be in the arm microchip."

"I know, but we could at least salvage the recently accessed data in the temporary memory, right? That's better than nothing."

Wringing her hands, Tali glanced at the omni-tool pieces. She couldn't deny that it would be wonderful to work on a tool of that complexity and novelty. And who knew? When she was finished reassembling the found one, there was nothing to stop her from implementing the changes to her own. Although she couldn't be sure exactly how it worked without it being fully operational, the fabricator alone had potential as yet unseen by anything on the market. If she could bring this technology back to her people, it might even be a more valuable gift than the spare geth parts she was hoping for…

"All right," she agreed. "But it will take time. I'll have to craft some of the missing components myself. I don't think the readily available ones will work in some instances."

Garrus sighed. "Just do what you can."

Despite herself, Tali began to wonder exactly who had ended up on that Presidium, and where they'd gotten such and advanced piece of tech.

**000**

"A Reaper?" said Shepard, frowning. Her body sagged in one direction, but she managed to keep her feet.

Hackett's mind tumbled over itself and the implications of this news. Whether or not Patient B's statement was true or not was irrelevant. If Saren had stumbled upon a Reaper, that meant his tactical advantage would be greater than anticipated. It would explain the unknown tech that the geth had used on Eden Prime, and it would explain how Saren always seemed to be one step in front of them.

"The vanguard of our destruction," agreed Patient B. Seeing the distrust on Shepard's face, she sighed again. "Look, I know you saw them. In the vision. After you got the cipher from Shiala, things clicked into place, didn't they? You had the organic conversion in the beginning, just like before, but then there were entire planets being engulfed and a looming shadow. You saw the footage on Eden Prime. Tell me that ship doesn't look like the thing from your vision." Every word came out with more force than the last, and by the end, the woman seemed to be daring the Commander to defy her.

Though he hadn't thought it possible, Shepard's frown deepened. "The shadow," she murmured. The words were barely out of her mouth before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed, her body convulsing. Anderson managed to catch her under the arms before her head hit the ground and held on as she bucked against him. His eyes swung up to meet Hackett's and his mouth all but disappeared in the middle of his mouth.

Patient B sat up, covers pushed away and arm straining against the cuff. "What's happening to her?"

Hackett didn't answer. He marched out of the room and went to the marines who were standing guard outside, ignoring that they all stood a little straighter upon seeing him. "Commander Shepard is in need of medical assistance. Baker, go tell the medical staff to get here asap." He ignored the _yes sir_ and turned his attention back on Anderson, who was cradling Shepard's body in his arms.

There'd been some talk in the ranks, once upon a time, if the relationship between Anderson and Shepard was wholly copacetic. Some had wondered if the reason Anderson favoured Shepard so highly had less to do with her impeccable scores and more to do with, well, certain… extracurricular activities. From the get-go, Hackett knew that wasn't the case, that Shepard was simply that damned good, but it had taken until Elysium for the last murmurs to disappear completely.

But just because there was no romantic liaison between the two of them, didn't mean that their relationship was, strictly speaking, professional. Somehow, watching them, Hackett couldn't find it in himself to give a damn.

The doctors pushed past him with a gurney and loaded Shepard on top. If they noticed the similarities between Patient B and Shepard, if they wondered why the Commander was in the room with a chained patient, they didn't ask. Part and parcel of being Alliance military, it would seem.

Anderson followed with hurried footsteps, brow crinkled in concern. Only when the whole lot of them had disappeared down the hallway did Hackett wander back into the room. He closed the door behind him. Patient B was thinking hard, though she studied him through her lashes when he came in. It was clear she still didn't trust him, and if Hackett were being honest, probably rightly so. He didn't trust her either. She, like the Reapers, was an unquantifiable entity.

"What's up with her?" asked Patient B.

"The vision," said Hackett, "is burning a hole in her brain." He took his place on the chair. "That's not the medical term, but that's what it is."

"That… that didn't happen to me," said Patient B, troubled.

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Hackett watched her run her tongue along her teeth. He tried to think of a question to ask that could stop this farce and start getting to the meat of the issue, but after Shepard… With a deep breath, he stood, pulling the chair away from the bed. He turned to leave.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Patient B.

That was an excellent question. "For now? Nothing. You'll wait here until a decision is made."

"You're running out of time," she said.

Something about the completely deadpan way she said it made the hairs on the back of Hackett's neck stand up. He turned to her, and decided that she should not look as dangerous as she did in her regulation pyjamas with her blonde curls frizzing about her face.

"Beg your pardon?" he said.

"Look, I don't know exactly how long I've been here," said Patient B, "and more importantly, I don't know how long she, that other-Shepard, has been here. My memories of this time, whether you want to believe in them or not, are different than what's happening. I'm telling you that unless you start heading off Saren's plans, he's going to attack and history, well." He watched her systematically shutter away all her emotion. "History is going to become a lot bloodier long before it's supposed to." She shrugged slightly. "Of course, if this is all a delusion, it's a moot point, right?"

Having nothing to say to that, Hackett chose that moment to make his exit. He felt her watch him as he left.

He locked the door behind him using the pad and then exited to the hall, locking that one as well. He could feel the weight of the marines' attention, even if they weren't looking at him. He turned to leave and was surprised to see the Ambassador standing in front of him. The man looked sour, but from what Anderson said, that was a fairly common occurrence.

"Admiral Hackett," said Udina, eyes boring a hole into the door. His brow shifted, the question implied.

"No answers yet," said Hackett, gesturing away the man away from the prying ears of the marines. He started towards his commandeered office.

"That's a pity," said Udina, though he sounded more annoyed than anything. "The Council is not pleased. If you don't give them something to work with soon, they're going to take the entire matter out of our hands."

"I'm aware of the situation," said Hackett. He rounded the corner and Udina followed.

"This matter is of more than just military import," continued Udina as though he hadn't heard. "The Council is afraid that that galactic security could be at risk. They're afraid we're the weak link in the chain." The man let out an explosive breath. "And Shepard's current condition isn't doing much to dissuade the notion."

Hackett's hand paused just above his office door's interface, before he punched the damn thing open. "Was there something I could do for you, Ambassador?"

The man held up a datapad. "The Council wanted to inform Shepard about a recent development, but were unable to get a hold of her. I was… volunteered to pass the briefing along. That was before I saw her being wheeled down the hallway."

An uneasiness clenched inside Hackett. He sat down behind his desk and held out his hand. "Do you know what the mission was?"

Udina shrugged. "More of the same, I'd imagine. The exact details are classified, even for me." He crossed his arms. "If I recall correctly, I believe it had something to do with a backwater planet called… Varmina? Vitrine?"

Hackett found it very hard to draw breath. "Virmire?"

"That's the one," said Udina. The man kept talking but his words fell away as Hackett leaned back in his chair. All the plans and theories and manoeuverings faded from the reaches of his mind, leaving only the image of Patient B, waking up and asking him if they'd won the war against the Reapers.

* * *

_Firstly, thank you to the anon that pointed out I cited the wrong play last chapter. Embarrassing, especially since I had the quote cited properly in my notebook right next to me. This was right after I thought, "I'm going to mess up one of these during the course of this fic." (Of course, I didn't think it would be the second chapter. Sets an amazing precedent, doesn't it?) __  
_

_Secondly, thank you to the rest of my reviewers! I've been wanting to work on this (and everything else), but I just recently had all four of my wisdom teeth extracted and so I've been flying high on T3s. If mental composition equaled actual, written words, I'd be much farther along. Writing just wasn't working while drugged. At one point, all I had for that last section was, "Hackett, realizing the pointlessness of the entire conversation, ushered everybody out of the room and left." I'd like to think the above is a tad more compelling.  
_

_Thirdly - Happy Holidays! :)  
_


	4. Four

"The wheel is come full circle, I am here."

**Shakespeare, **_**King Lear**_

"What I am about to suggest," said Hackett, "is impossible."

Anderson didn't like the sound of that. He and Hackett were huddled around Shepard's bed, the woman looking wan and deathly. She could barely sit up, and her hands had developed a fine trembling that she tried to hide by pressing them in close to her body. But she would be fine. Shepard always was. It was one of her defining characteristics, and this would be no different. Still, she didn't react much better to Hackett's announcement, swivelling her eyes to look for solidarity with her former CO.

"Best get it out, then," said Anderson.

Hackett opened his mouth and shut it, running one hand over his chin. He glanced towards the door, as though that would offer some sort of incentive to continue. It wasn't like the Admiral to be so reticent with information. He pulled over a chair and sat on it, removing an OSD from his pocket and placing it on the bed near Shepard's legs.

"C'mon, Admiral," said Shepard, "the suspense is killing me." Her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. "Har har."

Anderson was about to tell her that wasn't even remotely funny when Hackett interrupted him. "This is a mission briefing for you from the Council," said Hackett, licking his lips.

"And?" prompted Shepard.

"It's about an STG group that's gone silent. They want you to investigate." Hackett's eyes never left the OSD. "The last place they were heard from is a small planet called Virmire."

Shepard's hands convulsed around her blankets, the whites of her eyes visible. She stared at Hackett, and when he wouldn't meet her eyes, she stared at Anderson, who wanted to provide her with some sort of comfort, but found that he couldn't muster up anything. How had Patient B known? His mind stumbled over possible explanations.

"Could she have some sort of mole planted within the Council?" asked Anderson.

A quick headshake from Hackett dismissed that idea. "The report says that they received jumbled communications from an STG force situated on Virmire just before we started interrogating Patient B. Not only was she heavily guarded and unconscious prior to being revived, the Council itself didn't know about Virmire until literally just before she mentioned it."

Swallowing audibly, Shepard vaguely shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You're right," said Anderson to Hackett, "that is impossible."

The Admiral's mouth thinned and he looked anything but pleased. "There is one alternative that we haven't considered."

"What's that?" said Shepard faintly.

"Occam's Razor," said Hackett. "Everything being equal, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one." Seeing stares from both his subordinates, he sighed. "Maybe – and this is a big maybe – she's telling the truth."

That thought lingered in the air like a haze of smoke. Anderson broke the silence first. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately," said Hackett, "but think about it. Her DNA and dental records are a perfect match to Shepard's. She knows things that nobody but Shepard knows. She has tech we've never seen before. She has intel that should be classified. She says she was in a war, and by God, her body when she arrives could attest to that. And… And she knew about Virmire."

But Anderson couldn't accept that. "Maybe she's working with the Council?"

"To what end?" demanded Hackett.

He was floundering, and he knew it, but Anderson said, "To discredit humanity? To cause some sort of interplanetary incident?" He shook his head. "I just… Time travel? I can't believe it. That's science fiction."

"We're currently on a giant space station built 50,000 years ago by a long dead alien species," whispered Shepard. "We share that space station with half a dozen other aliens species, and we're all capable of FTL travel, and we're all going to be exterminated by a race of evil machines from beyond the galaxy." She shifted her weight slightly. "With all due respect, Anderson, we're living science fiction."

Put that way, the whole thing made Anderson feel incredibly foolish. "All right, all right, point taken." He took a deep breath. "Let's pretend for a second that she's telling the truth – that raises a variety of problems. First of all, how do we prove it definitively? Then, if we do that, what does that mean for us? For the galaxy? She says that there's a war coming, and from the look of her when she arrived, it wasn't going well."

The three officers let that thought sink in. Anderson could feel a chill creeping under his collar and he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get rid of it. Hackett got that look on his face that Anderson hadn't seen since the First Contact War. Shepard… well, if possible, she looked paler than she had when they'd arrived.

"She knows about Devyn," said Shepard, and Anderson had to remind himself that she was speaking of her dead brother, not herself. "She knows about the Reapers. Like you guys were saying, I wasn't quite a nobody before my promotion, but I wasn't really worthy of a clone copy, either." She sighed. "As for the rest of it, I guess it means - if it's true – that we have a resource at hand, doesn't it? She knows what's going to happen because she lived it. She can guide us through it, right?"

"Except that maybe she doesn't," countered Hackett quietly. He leaned back in his chair and regarded Shepard. "She doesn't know anything about what that beacon did to your brain. By her account, whatever you're experiencing never happened to her." The Admiral sighed. "Which raises more questions than it answers and calls into question whether she could really lead us anywhere."

"She might have to," whispered Shepard, "if something happens to me." Anderson opened his mouth to object, hearing his blood pump through his ears, but Shepard held up a hand. Hackett, the Captain noticed, made no move at all. "You think I don't know what's going on beyond those doors, Anderson? There's a political shit storm brewing out there. You guys are trying to hide it from me, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not an idiot." She sighed and she was so small in her bed that Anderson found his throat close up. "The doctors don't know what's happening, and – and I'm so damn tired."

Hackett stared at Shepard, and Anderson couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. "The best thing to do might be to take her before the Council. Let them decide."

"I can imagine how much fun that's going to be," said Anderson. "Udina is going to have a field day with this one. How on Earth are we going to convince them that she's… she's from the future? We hardly believe it ourselves and we've talked to her."

"Don't tell Udina," said Hackett. He was thinking heavily, hand on his chin. Anderson nearly laughed out loud, imagining the Ambassador's face. "If she really knows the future, she might have some ace in the hole she can play with the Councillors to persuade them. If she doesn't, well…" He closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. "Either way, she'll have the element of surprise on her side and if it turns out that she really knows nothing, we can plead ignorance."

"Throw her to the wolves?" queried Shepard, brows pulling together. "I don't know how I feel about that. On one hand, yeah, she could be a spy. On the other hand, she could be, well, me." She chortled. "God, that's surreal to say."

"She's a political liability, Shepard," countered Anderson. "The other races aren't pleased we took her into our custody and haven't relinquished her, no matter what they say. If we keep her, we're sending the message that we don't play well with others. If we let her go, we risk losing a valuable asset. We need to get them to trust her – or at least tolerate her – so that we can have some more time to work this out."

Shepard took a deep breath and looked at each man in turn. "You better hurry then. Time… time may not be something I have."

Not knowing what to say, Anderson took her hand and held it.

**000**

Karin would be lying if she said that she was perfectly comfortable around Patient B. The simple truth was that she looked entirely too much like Commander Shepard for the whole experience to be anything but surreal. With the chart in her hands, Karin tried not to think about the fact that it was Patient B sleeping on that bed, not Shepard. It was nearly a sense of déjà vu, harkening back to the hours after Eden Prime.

Though other doctors had run the lab reports and medical procedures on Patient B following her unorthodox landing on the Presidium, Karin had gotten an official Alliance order that she was to be in charge of the wayward clone for the foreseeable future – or until the _Normandy_ left dock, whichever came first. Something about the way the whole thing had been worded filled her with no little sense of unease. While she wasn't advocating that Patient B be locked up and the key thrown out, she hadn't had a proper conversation with the woman yet either, and wasn't sure of her motivation. Admiral Hackett, however, had seen fit to keep her here and, if the gossip was true, he'd already spent hours questioning her.

That neither Captain Anderson nor Admiral Hackett would tell her anything meant that either there was nothing to tell (unlikely, given the circumstances) or that they were keeping it highly classified. She knew which one she was willing to bet her medical license on.

On the bed, Patient B started to thrash around. Her vitals sparked violently, though all were still within the perfectly normal range. Her brain scan flashed like the lights in a nightclub. Karin held out a hand, ready to gently and calmly wake the sleeping woman, but it proved unnecessary when the woman in question's eyes snapped open, a half-formed scream ripping from her throat. She snapped up, hand ready to strike out at anyone close enough, eyes wild. Terror clawed down her face, until those same eyes came to rest on Karin.

"Hey," said Patient B, lowering her arm and struggling to make herself seem normal. Her eyes flickered around the room, before they closed and she nodded to herself.

"Bad dreams?" probed Karin.

"Yeah," said Patient B, swallowing, "something like that."

Karin nodded to herself, holding the chart out in front of her like it was some sort of shield. Foolish, she knew, yet she couldn't seem to help it. "Your arm seems better," she tried.

Patient B blinked, then swung her arm around in demonstration. "Yeah. It's not a hundred percent yet, but it could be worse. At least it wasn't my gun hand."

"And your leg?"

"Hurts," said Patient B, "but I've had worse. Throw me into a mission and it would slow me down, but it wouldn't stop me."

Neither one of them mentioned the fact that it was highly unlikely that Patient B would be going on any mission any time soon, but from the way the younger woman's eyes dropped to the floor, it was clear that Karin wasn't the only one thinking it. She couldn't help but feel a sharp prick of pity for Patient B. Here was someone who, because she wasn't who she thought, was left adrift in a world without purpose. Karin had no idea what the future held, and if the thought made her uneasy, she couldn't imagine it from this woman's point of view.

Karin cleared her throat. "Is there something I can call you? All of our reports are referring to you as _Patient B_. It seems oddly informal."

"I suppose Commander Shepard is out, huh?" asked Patient B with a tainted smile. She thought for a second. "My mom used to call me Dee."

"Dee it is," announced Karin.

"Can I ask… How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks," answered Karin, and seeing Dee open her mouth again, she continued, "and before you ask, Commander Shepard was here three days before your… arrival."

"Almost three weeks since Feros then, and just over four since Therum," muttered Dee, pushing her legs over the side of the bed. She ran a hand through her curls while she stood and started to pace, her limp noticeable. "There isn't a whole lot of time. Virmire happened a month after Feros, and then we pushed on Noveria. After that, with all the political red tape and the detour back to the Citadel, it took us a good two days to get to the Mu Relay."

All of the hairs on Karin's arms stood up. She opened her mouth to tell Dee that maybe she shouldn't be aggravating her leg, but never got the chance. The door clicked behind her and she turned to see Admiral Hackett standing there, hands clasped behind his back. Dee turned and stared at him, but made no move. Admiral Hackett's eyes turned on Karin.

"How's she doing, Doctor?" he asked.

"Surprisingly well," admitted Karin, hands clenching around the chart. "She's regenerating at an accelerated rate. I can only conclude that it has something to do with her reconstructive implants."

Admiral Hackett turned his attention on Dee. "Is this true?"

Dee shrugged. "A few billion credits worth of upgrades should buy you something, right?"

A few _billion credits_? Karin did her best to keep standing upright, but snuck a look at Dee anyways. The woman was utterly unfazed by the amount, and was currently engaged in a staring context with the Admiral.

"And would you be prepared to act on behalf of the Systems Alliance?" asked Admiral Hackett.

"So far as I'm concerned, that's what I've been doing for my entire adult life," replied Dee, though there was some flicker of her eyes that made Karin wonder. Dee licked her lips and showed her teeth. "Something about taking the soldier out of the fight but not taking the fight out of the soldier, right?"

Admiral Hackett gave the barest nod and strode forward into the room. Karin said, "Sir, if you'd like me to leave…"

"No, I need you here," said the man. "If the worst should come to happen, I expect you'll be involved in some way." He acknowledged Karin's nod, though she had no idea what he was talking about, and then he sat on the bed, clasping his hands between his knees. He took a deep breath and said, "I think I believe you."

Dee reeled backwards, suspicion patterning her face. "What?"

"I believe you," repeated the Admiral, and seeing as how this cleared nothing up, he added, "I believe there's a real chance that you're Commander Shepard."

Where Dee's expression was contained surprise, Karin was sure she was staring at the Admiral with abject shock. How could this be Commander Shepard if Shepard was waylaid in the ICU?

"Oh?" said Dee. "So what's your new theory? That I just fell through time and showed up years in the past?"

"Essentially," said Admiral Hackett.

Dee's eyes flew wide. "What, really?"

"I'm not saying that it's easy," continued Admiral Hackett. "It's straining every ounce of faith I have. But you knew about Virmire just as the initial report and mission briefing were passing into Udina's hands. You knew about the Reapers. Your DNA matches. And, well, you have Shepard's tics and Shepard is currently out for the count. She's not improving, and we don't know that she will. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Yes," said Karin, and it felt as though something molten had been poured through her circulatory system.

"What does this have to do with me?" asked Dee. "I don't know how to make her better, if that's what you're asking."

"We need you to meet with the Council," said Admiral Hackett. "Convince them somehow that you're what you say you are. If you can't convince them about the Reapers, at least stop them from taking you into their custody."

"I'm supposed to convince the Council of an insane theory?" said Dee, skepticism dripping. "Really? That's the plan?"

"I heard you when I walked in," said Admiral Hackett quietly. "You're trying to figure out how long before this thing snowballs. Anderson and I are trying to do the same. I think we all have the same goal at the moment, which is to stop Saren. Stop Saren, stop the Reapers. That's what we all want, isn't it?"

"It may not be that simple," said Dee hollowly.

Karin remembered how relieved the woman had been to see them all alive and well, and what with the mentions of the Reaper war that had tumbled from her – a war that, it would seem, the Admiral was taking as a fact (albeit one that hadn't happened yet)… At the time, Karin had been sure that it was the result of brainwashing, of cloning, of… something. Now? Now one of the highest ranking officials in the Alliance military was admitting that he believed Dee was from the future – that she really _was_ Commander Shepard. But that wasn't possible, not even in theory.

Of course, until relatively recently, the idea of mass effect fields would've seemed utterly ridiculous to the scientific community as well. An element that allowed mass to be altered through the introduction of an electric current – impossible! Yet it was a principle that now drove the entirety of human society.

"Things rarely are," said Admiral Hackett as he stood. "But since accepting this theory means that you really are Shepard, that means you'll never give up."

Dee – or, uh, Shepard? – struggled to keep her emotions in check, but her trembling lower lip gave her away. "Sir... I do have certain documents on my omni-tool microchip, but the chip was updated when… When I was. It's unlikely that we could access…"

The Admiral placed a hand on her shoulder. "They wouldn't let you have one during the meeting with the Council anyways."

Karin's throat was strangely tight when her omni-tool beeped. She opened up her messages and her world tilted. "Admiral," she said, and something in her voice made him turn to face her. "It's, it's Shepard, sir."

**000**

Kaidan knew he was running the risk of giving himself away, but he just couldn't find it in himself to care. Even for the most devout of friends, coming every day – sometimes several times a day – might seem a little excessive, but this was Shepard and after what Ash had said… He didn't know if Shepard really felt the same way, didn't know if he believed it, but… but there was something there, wasn't there?

She was the first person he wanted to tell everything to. Brain camp, Rahna, Vyrnnus, everything. He'd been planning to tell her the next time they'd caught some privacy on the _Normandy_; he had rapidly realized that Shepard took time after every mission to talk to her crew, and figured that would be the best opportunity. Of course, then she'd fallen sick and the whole plan had shattered.

Which brought them to now.

Shepard was so small in her bed, and it was wrong. This wasn't the Commander he'd come to know, who could stand in front of complete strangers and win their respect, who could pull off battle tactics that every trainer in basic would say was impossible. And this wasn't the woman he'd come to care for, who shined so bright and won the loyalty of everyone on her crew. It wasn't right.

He knocked quietly on the doorframe and her eyes fluttered open. Though her smile was smaller now, weaker, it was no less pleased to see him, and the thought made the tempo of his heart uneven.

"What are you doing here?" she asked softly.

Kaidan pulled a chair up beside her bed. He hesitated a moment before putting his hand over hers, trying to remain upbeat even though hers trembled under his touch – and not for the reason he wanted. "Just come to check up on you. Let you know that Pressley's keeping the crew in line. Well, except maybe for Wrex. He wandered down into the Wards and said to message him when we were ready to get back to work."

Shepard sighed. "Has he gotten into any trouble?"

"None that we've heard about, and knowing krogan, we would've," said Kaidan. He squeezed her hand. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm great," she said with too much conviction.

"Okay, and now that you're finished lying, how are you really?" he asked.

Her shoulders slumped and she wriggled deeper under her blankets, face turned slightly away. "I'm scared. I wish that damn beacon had never been uncovered. I wish I could get out of this bed and put a bullet in Saren's head." When she turned back, her face was intent. "Kaidan, what makes you _you_?"

Kaidan blinked and tried to sort out what she was getting at. "Do you mean, how am I who I am? Or is this _you_ more of the general kind?"

"The general kind," said Shepard. She weighed her words. "It's just that… I've got this beacon rattling around in my head, and there is all this information that isn't mine. I just… Lines are becoming really blurred lately."

Leaning forward with his elbows on the bed, Kaidan said, "I think there are two ways you know who you are. First are the things that you've done, the memories and experiences you carry with you."

Shepard blinked rapidly and ran a tongue over her teeth, swallowing thickly. "And the second?"

"How you let those experiences define you," said Kaidan. His mind, his rank were telling him to stop there, but he couldn't. "And after what you've been through, Shepard, anyone else would be a mess, but not you. You're kind, and strong, and…" He swallowed to cut off the word _beautiful_. "So what if you have this beacon? You're still you. You're still the same woman who pushed a stupid Lieutenant out of the way."

She looked close to tears, which wasn't his intention, and she pulled her hand from his grip. He was worried, for a second, that he'd done it, that he'd crossed the line, but she used that hand . "Thank you, Kaidan." Her hand jerked, and he was about to cover it with his, but she pulled away, staring at the ceiling. "When I was young, I never wanted to be a soldier, you know. That was… well, it wasn't my dream."

This was news to Kaidan, but he supposed he could understand. If he hadn't been biotic, if he hadn't been shipped to Brain camp, would he have ended up in the Alliance? His father had served, so it was likely, but from what he understood, Shepard had come from a family of civilians. Still, the idea that Earth's greatest soldier had started out with other dreams was… Well, Kaidan couldn't help but feel a sense of loss on her behalf.

"What did you want to do instead?" he asked quietly.

But she shook her head with a smile, and a hint of her usual good cheer leaked back into the conversation. Raising an eyebrow, she said, "That would be telling."

He laughed. "All right. I guess I guess I'll just have to pry it out of you once we're back aboard the _Normandy_."

Shepard stared to smile, but then the machines in the room went haywire, the cacophony almost deafening. Shepard's body clenched with pain, straining against some invisible bonds. Horror filled Kaidan as he rose to stand, to do something, but Shepard grabbed his arm tight enough that he was sure he would bruise and he didn't care. "I promise you that, one way or another, there will be a Commander on that ship," she said, voice little more than a wheeze. She closed her eyes, face contracting into pain. "Tell, tell Hackett that I want to see her. He'll know what I mean."

He was about to answer, but a slew of doctors and nurses rushed in and he was escorted from the room. With nothing else to do, he rushed to find the Admiral.

**000**

It was like she was a bubble, and she was finally surfacing from some deep underwater cavern to the light of day. The only problem with the metaphor was the fact that everything hurt. She opened her eyes and noticed the lights had been dimmed. Someone next to her cleared their throat and she turned to see… herself.

"Hey," said Patient B. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone drove an ice pick into my brain," said Shepard, and she hated how weak her voice sounded. It reminded her of the ship after Mindoir, and the psychologists, and the doctors. Bet they never saw _this_ coming.

"Can I get you anything?"

Shepard started to shake her head but held off when she realized how thirsty she was. "Water?"

Patient B grabbed the water bottle from the bedside table and uncorked it, holding it to Shepard's lips. The whole situation was unreal, and Shepard couldn't keep her eyes off her doppelganger as she drank, before pushing away the bottle. She tried to smile, but failed.

"This is… This is definitely one of the weirder things I've lived through," said Patient B, placing the bottle back on the table. "And trust me, you'll soon realize that that's saying something."

It hurt. Not just her head, though that too, but everything. The truth of it hurt. The knowledge that this other Shepard had never lain in this bed, had never had to deal with any sort of fallout from the beacon. Why? What had changed? If this Shepard hadn't shown up, would things have been different? And could she be angry with another person, jealous of another person… another person who was, in fact, herself?

"No, I won't," whispered Shepard, and the words hung there in the room.

When she spoke, Patient B sounded scared. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm dying," said Shepard, and though she'd joked about it with Anderson, she'd been trying to hide how scared she was. She wasn't ready to die. There was so much left for her to do. It was like she was just getting going, and now… And now, she was joined at her deathbed by herself, only three years older. The universe had a sick sense of humour.

"No, you're not," denied Patient B, standing up and looking for all the world like she wanted to hit something. Shepard understood the urge – she always wanted to hit something when she lost control, but rarely did. Instead, that rage would often fizzle before she found an appropriate target, turn into something colder, more determined.

Shepard took a deep breath. "How did Devyn die?"

Patient B worked her jaw, and Shepard saw in her eyes the same tears she felt prickling her own. "I was going to meet Kyle by the brook," said Patient B, and Shepard closed her eyes, recalling the scene. "I was going to meet Kyle with the cookies I'd baked him, and Devyn was following me. He was pestering me about meeting a boy, and not giving him any cookies, and the usual. We were almost to the treeline when a shuttle dropped next to our house. Then I heard the gunshots, and Mom screaming and… And I grabbed Devyn and we ran into the woods."

Nobody else could know that. Not about the cookies, or about meeting Kyle, or about Mom. Nobody. The scene was so real, down to the smell of grass mixing with the rot of the forest floor. She could hear the screaming and Devyn's laboured breaths and he struggled to keep up. "Stop," said Shepard. "Just… stop. If I didn't believe you before, I do now."

Patient B said nothing, eyes glued to the ground, and Shepard knew she was reliving it too.

"I am dying," said Shepard, reaching out a hand, "and I have to ask you something."

Is this what her hand felt like? It was the same size and shape, yet Shepard couldn't one as Patient B gripped her hand. "Anything."

The words sat on Shepard's tongue, but wouldn't come for a long time. She knew she had to say them, had to get them out, but doing that would mean… God, she'd wanted to handle this gracefully, peacefully, but all she could think of was…

"I need you to take my place," said Shepard. "When I'm gone." She held up her free hand to stop any protestations. "Saren is a threat and so are the Reapers. If you know about what happened, then you must really be me, and that means you won't give up. You have to be Devyn Shepard. You'll stop it from happening." Shepard hesitated. "Again."

Patient B's face was the definition of horror, eyes wide and lower lip trembling. "You don't know what you're asking."

"Probably not," agreed Shepard, "but I've got a Prothean vision in my head, and it's not pretty. I'm not saying I am – we are – the only one who can do it, but… You know what to do. You can stop the Reapers from doing what they did 50,000 years ago."

Dropping Shepard's hand, Patient B made no attempt to hide the tear that slid down her face. "You can't ask me this. This isn't my job," she said desperately. "You don't know… I had my chance and I _blew _it. I didn't… You don't know." She shook her head. "It's your turn. This is supposed to be what you do."

"It's not," said Shepard, though the words gave her little comfort. "It should be, but it's not. Let's both be honest – I'm not getting out of this bed. And if I don't stop Saren, who will?" There was that pain again. Shepard had held onto hope for weeks that she'd get better, that she'd be able to stop Saren, that she'd learn all about her new crew, that she'd figure out what she felt for Kaidan, that she'd be able to complete even one lousy assignment as the first human Spectre but… But her body was alight with pain like a bioluminescent jellyfish. Speaking was getting more difficult, but she struggled through. "I'm not getting up, so you're getting a second chance."

Patient B turned away and now she did hit something, slamming her fist into the wall. "How am I supposed to face them?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Everyone," said Patient B. "They were counting on me, and I _failed_. I let them down. How am I supposed to look into their eyes and pretend like it didn't happen for me? How am I supposed to pretend that I didn't watch them die?"

Even finding words was becoming difficult. "You're not," said Shepard, trying not to focus on what she was hearing, trying to remain steadfast in her determination. "You're supposed to remember. You're supposed to hurt, and you're supposed to be better. That's what… That's what you did after Mindoir, and that's what you've got to do now." The pain started to knife into Shepard's skull. "Trust me when I say I wish it wasn't happening this way but…"

"And what if I fail again?" asked Patient B in a small voice.

"All you can do is decide how you act in the aftermath of your experience," said Shepard, quoting Kaidan, smiling even though it hurt, and even though she could feel how cold her cheeks were from her tears. As a matter of fact, she was cold all over, and to pull her blankets over top of her. She was helped by Patient B, who pulled them up. "Can I ask you a question?"

Patient B swallowed loudly, but retook her chair and nodded.

"Kaidan and… Did we…?" She saw Patient B's eyes go wide, and even wracked with pain, even sleepy as she was becoming, she was embarrassed. "It's stupid. Never mind."

"Yes," said Patient B softly. "We did. Right after we stopped Saren, we got a bit of shore leave and we talked it out. We were assigned to different posts after that, and we didn't see each other often, but we were never far from each other's thoughts. I – I ended up meeting his family. His mom and I really hit it off." Patient B paused. "And he was a wonderful kisser. He made me feel loved."

And because that pounding silence in her head in her head became the sound of a thousand horses, Deirdre chose to ignore the fact that her counterpart was lying, was so obviously lying, because it was a pretty dream and after so much death, after so many nightmares, didn't she deserve a pretty dream? The only thing that could make it better was her family, alive and well. They'd get along with Kaidan, wouldn't they?

Then the shadow of the Reaper crawled out of the depths of her subconscious and plastered itself into her mind's eye, a negative image over the pretty dream she'd built, so that she could no longer see anything else.

She exhaled.

**000**

Councillor Tevos was nearing eight hundred years old. She had four daughters, three in the matron stage and one in the maiden. She'd been the asari Councillor for the last seventy years. She was fairly certain that whatever the galaxy had to throw at her, she would be able to handle it. After all, in the grand scheme of things, there was very little that changed. Skirmishes over territory, political disputes, natural disasters, she'd seen it all.

There were only two things in her political life that had genuinely surprised her. The first was the ascension of the Geth and the loss of Rannoch – nobody had seen that coming. The second, though she'd never admit it, was the discovery of humanity.

Humans were something of a black sheep in the galactic community, and Tevos couldn't fail to understand why. They were brash and demanding, and it was hard to get a grasp on them. Where the salarians were cunning and resourceful, they were also predictable in their needs and wants. The turians could be argumentative and aggressive, but the same was essentially true for them as well. Humans, on the other hand, differed as much from each other as they did from the other species. Understanding them was proving difficult, especially when they were engaging in political tactics that made zero sense.

This Patient B, for instance. If the woman had been bioengineered – and the possibility remained, though she trusted Valern's opinion – what would be the point? Though Shepard had been vetted as a potential Spectre, that hardly meant it was an assured thing. Look at David Anderson – Tevos had once been willing to entertain him as a candidate as well, and he'd botched his attempt.

Of course, in light of Saren's recent… rebelliousness, that was a matter that she was willing to concede may be up for debate.

In any case, the Alliance had requested an audience with the Council. In particular, they wanted to bring Patient B to them for questioning, though they were strangely evasive about giving any details about the woman's potential origins. Tevos was beginning to wonder if the Alliance hadn't engineered her themselves, though for what purpose she couldn't hope to guess.

Her door chimed and she looked up from her console to see Sparatus standing in her doorway, looking profoundly grumpy. "I thought you might want an escort to the meeting."

What he meant was _I want to know what you think of this whole thing_, but Tevos wasn't about to give away her hand. She rose gracefully from her desk and wandered over to him, wrapping her arm around his. He'd been attracted to her once, held off only by the fact that any private relationship would in all probability ruin their professional objectivity – a fact he'd learned for certain after she'd outmanoeuvered him several times in his first year.

It was an open secret, however, that he wasn't overly fond of humans. Prior to his ascension to the Council seat, Sparatus had been a highly ranked officer in the First Contact War. Prior to that, he'd been known as a practical soldier who'd never suffered a defeat. After, rather than being punished, the turian hierarchy had decided to promote him to boost morale. That didn't mean that Sparatus had ever fully forgiven the universe – or the humans – for slighting him.

"Do we know why they're bringing her to us?" he asked.

Tevos shook her head. "We did want to know what she was about. Perhaps this is our chance."

"I don't like it," said Sparatus. "The whole thing stinks of a setup."

The asari resisted the urge to roll her eyes. While he might be many things – a brilliant tactician, an exemplary orator – no one could deny that Sparatus tended to toe the line of paranoia. It wasn't his fault, really. Turians could be as cunning as anyone (Sparatus' predecessor was proof of that), but at heart they were still soldiers on the field.

"I don't think so," said Tevos. "For one, they'd never make it off the Citadel. The Alliance has sanctioned this. Any attempt on us would be political suicide. All the races of the galaxy would turn on them."

"Nobody said humans were smart," said Sparatus.

"Your prejudice is showing."

Sparatus harrumphed as they came to the Council chamber. The room had been vacated in light of the delicate nature of the issue at hand, with only several squadrons of security remaining. Tevos extricated herself from Sparatus and nodded to Valern, who returned the gesture. The three of them took their places.

"Let's get this over with," groused Sparatus.

"Captain," called Tevos to the leader of their security detail. "Bring in the human."

Following his salute, Valern leaned over. "This should be interesting. I can't say I'm not curious about this so-called Patient B."

"Sparatus is sure she's an assassin sent to kill us," said Tevos, trying to hide her smile.

Valern blinked and looked past her to Sparatus. "Humans are new in the galactic sphere, but there's no indication they're that foolhardy."

"You didn't witness they're tactics at Shanxi," growled Sparatus.

Tevos was about to intercede in the little tiff she'd created, but the doors opened. Walking on limping legs was a woman that made Tevos' mouth go dry. She'd read the reports, she'd heard the account first hand from Anderson, and Valern had managed to dupe one of the hospital staff into giving them further details, but she hadn't expect… Well, she hadn't expected Commander Shepard.

Eight hundred years is a long time to learn how to read people, and it was something that Tevos was good at. Even though humans were new on the scene, and even though some of their… racial tics were more ambiguous than she'd like, there was no denying the similarities between Patient B and Shepard. They held their shoulders the same way, scanned the room the same way, even stared up at the Council in the same challenging manner – though Patient B's expression seemed tinged with some undefinable human emotion that Tevos couldn't place.

"I take it you're the infamous Patient B," she said.

The human woman twisted her lips. "I prefer Commander Shepard, actually.

"I'm afraid we cannot take your word on that," said Valern. "No matter who programmed you, no matter how thorough a job they did, I'm afraid your memories are nothing more than illusory."

"Actually, a new theory has come forward," countered Patient B.

"Really?" drawled Sparatus. "Enlighten us."

Patient B took a deep breath and clenched her fists at her sides, rolling her eyes upwards. "How much did Hackett put in his reports?"

Asari had a tendency to dance around an issue they didn't want to discuss outright. Tevos had noticed this same tendency in other species as well – though perhaps less so in salarians, krogan and elcor – but none of them had the necessary skill to pull it off subtly. She said, "The report merely stated that your origins were inconclusive."

"That's for damn sure," muttered Patient B, but she pulled back her shoulders and stared them down. "Like I said, my name is Commander Shepard. And before you say, _no that's not possible because there's already a Commander Shepard_ – trust me, I know. The thing is, before I woke up in that hospital, I remember it being 2186."

Tevos attempted to grab onto that thought, to make it stick, to make it something more than nonsense. Unfortunately, she wasn't successful.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Sparatus. He wheeled toward his fellow councillors. "No wonder they didn't tell us what she wanted to discuss."

Valern was stroking his chin. "Tell us, what was it like in 2186?" He held up his free hand to quell Sparatus' outrage before it had the chance to manifest. "Merely out of curiosity."

"Hell," said Patient B, and there was something in her voice that made all three of them pause. Tevos wasn't overly familiar with the term, but she'd heard it used once or twice. It mirrored certain early, primitive beliefs from the quarians – a place of eternal damnation. "In 2186, the galaxy was at war. And we were losing." A flicker of shame crossed the human woman's face; that emotion was one that was nearly universal among species.

"What do you mean, _losing_?" asked Tevos, keeping her voice blank. Sparatus sent her a look that clearly stated he was not impressed that she and Valern were encouraging this line of discussion, but Tevos found that she too was curious. "Who was losing? Who was in this war?"

"We all were," said Patient B. "We were all being destroyed by the Reapers."

This proved too much for Sparatus. "The Reapers?" he demanded, throwing his arms up in the air. "Ever since Shepard became a Spectre, that seems to be all we're hearing about. Now we've got a clone, and it's spewing the same garbage. I say we relieve the Alliance of their prisoner and start running our own interrogations."

The idea wasn't necessarily a bad one, though it would have to be handled with an infinite amount of grace. Tevos felt a sliver of uncertainty dig into her gut. It wasn't that she actually believed that this woman was Commander Shepard from the future – that was inconceivable – but the utter conviction on that woman's face was enough to make her mentally stumble.

"Listen to me," snapped Patient B. She hobbled forward one or two steps. "You didn't believe me the first time and we were losing _everything_. This is crazy and trust me, nobody appreciates that more than me, but after what I've seen… What I've seen…" Patient B's brown eyes skimmed some evidence none of them could see. "Let's just say that I've made a career of doing the impossible." She swallowed. "You have the chance to do it _right_ this time. To prepare for the arrival of the Reapers."

"I assume that you have concrete evidence of these allegations?" said Valern gently, and when Patient B's eyes dropped and one of her hands grasped the other, he added, "Ah. That would be a no then?"

"Of course she doesn't," said Sparatus. "The Alliance is wasting our time. I imagine they think this is funny."

"You've got a rogue Spectre out there," cried Patient B. "And right now, he's indoctrinated and he's building an army to help the Reapers destroy us all. We have to stop him."

"That is a task we assigned to Commander Shepard," said Tevos firmly. "The _real_ Commander Shepard. Regardless of whether or not we believe in her story – and, it would seem, yours – about ancient sentient machines out to kill us all, you have made an outlandish allegation and done nothing to substantiate it. You pose a risk to this station, and this galaxy, and as such, I must agree with my colleague about taking you into our custody." She risked a look at Sparatus, who preened in a most unattractive fashion.

"I suppose I must agree as well," said Valern quietly. "What you propose is entirely outside the realm of the possible. Perhaps through study we might better understand what happened to you, and where you actually came from."

"Then our business is concluded," said Sparatus.

"Wait."

They all three of them paid special attention to Patient B, who was now hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair. Her hands remained clenched at her sides, and everything about her screamed that she was furious. When she finally looked up, Tevos had to stop herself from taking a step back. She was an asari matriarch, after all, and a powerful biotic who'd once been part of an elite commando squad. The woman before her, though, she looked like a person who would do whatever was necessary, who was on the brink of disaster (or perhaps a psychotic breakdown) and was not going to take _no_ for an answer.

"I know things," she said.

"Clearly," drawled Sparatus, "nothing important."

Patient B turned all her attention on the turian councillor, and Tevos found herself annoyingly relieved it wasn't her. "Tell me, Sparatus," she said, taking a step forward, "how's that nuclear bomb you've got hidden on Tuchanka, hm? Still active?"

Tevos blinked, and turned towards her colleague. He was staring down the human. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but there was a slight hitch to his last word, and he was tapping one of his feet like he always did when he was lying. Curious.

"And how about you, Valern?" asked Patient B, voice sickly sweet. "How's that STG project going? The one with the yahg? You know, that species we're all forbidden to contact? Uplifting them will be difficult, but hey, what's the worst thing that can go wrong? It all went so well with the krogan, right?"

Now Tevos looked at Valern, but he stayed silent. He made no attempt to deny it, but he didn't acknowledge it either. He'd always been harder to read than Sparatus, but the fact that he wasn't saying anything at all did not bode well.

"Tevos," said Patient B, and the asari dragged her gaze back down. Now Patient B was directly under the dais, looking up. Where she'd been sarcastic with the other two, she now looked almost sad. "During the war, when everything seemed darkest, you gave me a bit of advice. You told me that Athame guided those who sought her out. You told me I should visit her temple on Thessia before it was destroyed." Patient B swallowed, and when she spoke, it was with steel. "That was right before the Reapers invaded your planet."

Time seemed to stop, and a thin lick of chill dragged down Tevos' back. There was no way this… this nobody, this _thing_ could know about the secrets in Temple of Athame. She forced herself to act confused but amused. "A war is a very strange time to be giving theological advice."

"You're right," agreed Patient B. "Though you also mentioned that there were several asari monasteries I could check out."

Now there was no denying. Though this woman was playing things close to the chest, it was obvious that she was referring to the Ardat-Yakshi. Tevos kept her kind but distant façade up, smiling slightly. "Is there a purpose to this?"

"Saren needs to be taken down," said Patient B, "but more than that, the Reapers are coming. You need someone to take them out."

Valern inclined his head slightly. "We've been keeping apprised of the Commander's situation. A very unfortunate turn of events, but there may yet be a chance that she recovers."

"She's dead," said Shepard flatly.

Tevos struggled to keep the surprise off her face, though neither Sparatus nor Valern managed. The whole situation must've been covered up extremely well by the Alliance if none of their sources had managed to get this information. Tevos couldn't exactly blame the Alliance – if news that the first human Spectre leaked out, especially with an identical copy walking around and Saren at large, it would do much not only to discredit them, but to undermine their bid for a Council seat. But what would this mean for the Council? Her mind skimmed over the possibilities.

Patient B hugged her arms around herself. "Look, I know none of you wanted me – wanted _Shepard_ in any form – to be a Spectre. I get that. And I know all this Reaper business sounds like a bad bedtime story, but if we wait as long to address the threat as we did last time, we could end up losing everything. Again."

Whatever hint of a smile she'd had slipped off Tevos' face. "Are you trying to get at something?"

"Send me," said Patient B.

The urge to laugh bubbled up inside the asari, but she swallowed it down. Valern was thinking heavily, but Sparatus was staring down at the human woman with slitted eyes. "And why would we do that? We have no idea who you are or where you came from. You come in here making unverifiable accusations," here he tapped his foot again, "and you expect us to hand you a Council-funded prototype ship and send you off into the galaxy to do God knows what."

He had a point, and it wasn't one that had gone over Tevos' head. The whole plan was ludicrous, but she couldn't stop thinking about this woman's mention of the Temple of Athame. _Nobody_ knew about the secrets contained within except those in the highest echelons of asari power. Tevos could count the number of people on her fingers. Of course, now they'd have to be extra careful. There was no doubt that Valern had filed away the comment and would be sending reconnaissance to figure out exactly what the asari were hiding under the veneer of religion. It hardly mattered. The asari had perfected their game long ago, and no salarian lived long enough to outmanoeuver them.

"It's risky," agreed Patient B, "but I guess you guys have a choice here. Either you grant me permission to take over Commander Shepard's post and stop Saren, or you let Saren run unchecked in the Traverse and, best case scenario, assemble an army of rogue geth, or worst case scenario, set in motion an invasion that will destroy us all."

"Or," said Sparatus, "we simply assign the task to another Spectre altogether."

Patient B shook her head. "You're not going to do that. The _Normandy_ is an Alliance vessel."

"Developed in partnership with the turians," volunteered Valern, "and funded in part by this Council."

"But still a human ship," pushed the human. "If you take it away from the Alliance, there are going to be huge political repercussions and you _know_ this. The Alliance won't take it sitting down, and if you start taking away resources away from non-Council members on what appears to be a whim and allocating them elsewhere, how long until dissention arises, I wonder? Especially since the first – and technically only – human Spectre died as a result of a shakedown run assigned by the Council itself? Not to mention the fact that it happened while she was hunting a rogue Spectre – a Spectre the Council initially refused to investiate properly." Patient B leaned back and stared them all down.

Tevos wasn't easily impressed, but this human had managed it. It wasn't a comforting feeling, however, because it was tinged with the knowledge that she knew more than she should, and probably more than she was even letting on. "Still, you'll forgive us for not wanting to send an unknown to take care of Council business. If we do that, we'll end up dealing with the political ramifications if your unlikely story proves untrue and you run rampant in the galaxy."

"You're wrong for two reasons," said Patient B, and Tevos wondered once more how humans could be so abrupt. "First of all, in order for this to work, nobody – and I mean, _nobody_ – should know that I'm…" She frowned before rolling her eyes and pushing on, "from the future, or that anything happened besides Commander Shepard getting better and resuming her hunt. Running amok would raise questions." Now her face, if possible, got even more serious. "And second, my crew – the crew of the _Normandy_ – would never stand for senseless violence or galactic battles or whatever you're thinking."

"They would not be able to object if they were dead," said Valern.

The expression on Patient B's face went beyond horror. Her lower lip trembled and the whites of her eyes became visible as they jumped between Councillors. It might simply have been that she was an amazing actress, but Tevos couldn't bring herself to believe it. Regardless of whether or not her impossible story were true, she loved those people. That horror turned to rage. It simmered beneath the surface, but Tevos could read it in the lines of her face.

"And, what? Fly the _Normandy_ around the galaxy all on my own? You do realize that the ship is pretty recognizable, right? I might be able to hide out in space, but if I docked anywhere of repute, I'd be flagged instantly, wouldn't I?"

While it would hardly be as straightforward and simple as that, the nature of her ship would indeed make it difficult for her to continue without being detected – unless she used intermediaries and stuck to open space. Tevos had never had a head for space battles, but she considered herself a tactical thinker and small shuttles could be used to access planets remotely while the _Normandy_ remained hidden off the sensors. Of course, should the ship itself suffer any damage, it would have to dock somewhere, but there was no end of places in the Traverse for the criminal element.

Then again, most of those places were unofficially run by the batarian hegemony, which would make things difficult for a woman wearing Shepard's face. Bad enough that the Commander had escaped becoming a slave, but to publically humiliate the hegemony when she decimated their attempt on Elysium? And what few other outposts there were would be more than happy to kill for a ship of the _Normandy's_ stature.

"This isn't something to be decided on a whim," said Tevos, giving significant looks to Valern and Sparatus. "We'll have to deliberate over this matter and inform you of our decision at a later date."

Patient B huffed, but nodded tightly. She turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. "Councillors," she called. "Don't take too long. Saren's a bigger threat than you realize."

They watched her leave and the second those doors closed, Sparatus rounded on Tevos. "We're not seriously considering her proposal," he snarled. "There is exactly zero evidence that this outlandish theory is true."

"Are you saying there is no validity to her allegations of a turian bomb on Tuchanka?" asked Tevos, and she watched as Sparatus squirmed.

It was a difficult line they toed. If any of them admitted that Patient B's claims held water, they'd be exposing not only themselves, but their entire race to a public scrutiny that nobody wanted. More than that, however, there would be an erosion of trust between them – an erosion that, as Tevos watched Sparatus stew, she feared had already begun. If there really was a bomb, and she really had known not only about the Ardat-Yakshi but the Prothean relic in the Temple of Athame as well, then that meant her information about the salarians' experiments on yahg subjects was likely also true. Tevos studied the men in her company, realizing that although she'd never really trusted them, they'd been successfully keeping secrets of immense proportions from her. It begged the question: what else were they hiding?

There was also another more pressing problem: they all knew that Patient B's respective accusations were true, but if they agreed to let her take on Commander Shepard's shoes – or fill her old shoes, or, well, the whole thing made Tevos' head hurt – they would be admitting it to each other. Which was the bigger risk: revealing their secrets to be true and thus undermining the congruity of the Council, or allowing Saren to run amok in the Terminus systems?

And if she was right about certain classified information, was she also right about some impending Reaper attack…?

_No_, Tevos told herself. That really was too much to be believed.

"It would explain her genetic makeup," disagreed Valern, then hesitated. "But I, too, wonder at the wisdom of putting the _Normandy_ in her hands and letting her run off."

"Saren needs to be stopped," said Tevos, sighing. "She was right about what would happen if we assigned the ship to someone else. The _Normandy_ is needed to travel undetected. If Shepard is truly dead, we're left in a precarious state. We can't simply send Council ships into the Traverse. They'd see it as an act of aggression."

"Are you saying she convinced you, Tevos?" inquired Valern, and Tevos could see right through him. Worst part was, he knew it too.

So she did the only thing she could and allowed herself a graceful one-shoulder shrug. "I have no idea why I would ever tell a human to investigate the ancient asari beliefs about the goddess, but I don't deny that we keep low-profile monasteries dedicated to her, so I supposed that yes, I am saying that. Why? Are you saying that she was lying? And are you prepared to gamble us all on your answer?"

The two men held their breaths and looked at each other. Tevos let the weight of her words settle on their shoulders.

* * *

_So, um, that happened...__ Surprise? *ducks*  
_

_I love this story, but it's gotten completely out of hand. I knew it was going to be long, but we've hit 30K and... uh, they haven't left the Citadel yet. (Only three games to cover, you say? Oh boy.) I want to thank everyone that read, reviewed, whatever - I will endeavor to have a new chapter up in a few weeks. :)  
_


	5. Five

Conceal me what I am; and be my aid

For such disguise as, haply, shall become

The form of my intent.

**William Shakespeare, **_**The Twelfth Night**_

So all that shit that Ashley had gone on about compartmentalizing? Totally out the window. She stood pacing in the hospital waiting room, biting on her nails – a habit she thought she'd kicked when she was fifteen, but apparently not. God damnit, but it was like Eden Prime all over again, only this time, she didn't even have the benefit of shooting at something. She didn't often get angry at inanimate objects, but all her hatred was currently directed towards that stupid Prothean beacon.

Most of the crew was squished into a corner of the waiting room, with only a few exceptions. Pressly was holding down the fort and Tali had excused herself because of germs, but the rest of them had stayed. Not even the meanest nurse had the heart to keep them all away when news came about Shepard's attack or seizure or whatever the hell it was. Most were like her, jittering in their seats, sending worried glances at the doors that led into the ICU. It had been nearly four hours, yet here they all were.

And so was Kaidan.

The poor bastard was slumped over in his seat, head in his hands. When she'd first arrived, his eyes had been wild and it was the most emotional she'd ever seen him – and that included both when Shepard had been seized by the beacon in the first place, and later when she'd collapsed on Feros. That, more than anything he could've said, scared the bejesus out of her. The LT was known for being totally buttoned up, and to see all his worry and concern hanging loose… The third time the nurse had told them that she wasn't privy to the Commander's case and thus couldn't tell them a damn thing, Ashley had been sure that Kaidan was about to biotically throw her through the window.

Now, she almost wished he was still like that. He'd become, well, despondent was as good a word as any. In the moments before he'd lapsed into utter silence, he'd confessed that Jenkins was the first time he'd lost a squad mate. While some bitter part of her didn't think that losing even two people compared with losing your entire squadron, the fact that Shepard wasn't just a CO to Kaidan probably made this a thousand times worse.

"Damn it," she muttered. "What's taking so long?"

"I'm sure they're doing everything possible," said T'Soni timidly, and Ashley couldn't stop herself from sending the asari an annoyed expression.

The Doc hadn't been with them long, and so how could she know what the rest of them were going through? Especially Kaidan? Scuttlebutt said that T'Soni was interested in Shepard, but even if that were true, the two didn't compare in Ashley's mind. Kaidan had been with Shepard the longest, along with Joker – who was equally as quiet in his corner seat.

If Shepard didn't make this out of this – she would, she always did, but if she _didn't_ – what would that mean for their mission? Ashley wanted payback for the death of her squad and for all those civilians back on Eden Prime. More than that, if Shepard was telling the truth about the Reapers – and Ash had never seen her lie, not even when it would've made their lives a hell of a lot easier – then they were ass backwards without her.

And yeah, okay, so maybe she was focusing on the mission because she didn't really want to deal with the possibility that she might lose _another_ friend, but so what? She and Shepard were friends, sure, but they'd only known each other for a short time. It wasn't like they were braiding each other's hair or anything. Mind you, with Shepard's curls, that would be a task and a half…

"I hate this," said Joker, slumped in his seat. "It's kind of important for us to know if we have a CO or not. I don't know about you, but I don't really want Pressly leading the charge against Saren. No offense to the guy, but Shepard he ain't."

Ahsley couldn't really argue with that. The guy seemed all right, but he was a damned navigator. She pinched the bridge of her nose and paced. If there had been a punching bag, or better yet, a shooting range, that's what she'd be doing. Unfortunately, nobody had seen fit to include one in the hospital waiting room. An oversight, to be sure.

"She'll be all right though, won't she?" asked T'Soni.

Most of their eyes swivelled to Kaidan, seeing as he was the last person to see her, but if he noticed the attention, he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, of course," said Ashley in his stead, plastering a smile on her face. "C'mon, we're talking about the hero of the Skyllian Blitz here! Shepard's immortal." But even as she said it, the words seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment before shattering down around them.

The doors at the end of the room opened, and Doctor Chakwas emerged looking disturbed. There were abnormally large circles under her bloodshot eyes. Ashley's heart slammed into her toes, because the doctor had the look of someone who'd been weeping. There'd been enough heartache and sappy movies in the Williams' household to recognize the signs. Ashley laid a gentle hand on Kaidan's shoulder, and when he looked up blearily, she inclined her head in Chakwas' direction.

Immediately on his feet, Kaidan marched over, followed behind by the rest of them. Chakwas' smile was forced, lopsided and not at all comforting.

"Is she okay?" demanded Kaidan, and he appeared to be three seconds from shaking the information out of the woman.

Chakwas took a deep breath, and Ashley couldn't help but rage internally that this was not the time for dramatic pauses. "Commander Shepard," she began, then licked her lips. "We managed to come up with a solution. Whatever problems the beacon caused, they've come to an end. Shepard is… Shepard is fine."

It felt like they all let out a sigh of relief at the exact same time, and Ashley herself felt absurdly close to tears. She pushed them away and instead slapped Kaidan on the back. "There, you see LT? She's fine. Nothing to worry about."

Kaidan didn't seem like he really believed it. He was searching Chakwas' face for something, and as Ashley peered over his shoulder to try and figure out what it was, it hit her. Chakwas didn't seem as happy as she should. Sure, she met Kaidan's stare with calm blankness, but where was the joy? The relief? There was being professional, and there was, well, whatever the hell this was. The first threads of unease stitched through her nervous system.

"Can we see her?" queried Kaidan, voice barely above a whisper.

If Ashley hadn't been paying such close attention, she might've missed the way Chakwas' lower lip trembled for a second before the woman shook her head. "Unfortunately not. As soon as she was able, she and Admiral Hackett convened to debrief. As far as I know, she's still there."

"Debrief? About what?" asked Ashley at the same time Kaidan said, "Already?"

Chakwas held up her hands in surrender. "I only know what I've been told. Shepard said she'd meet us at the _Normandy_ tomorrow morning at oh-six hundred hours and that we should all be ready to go."

There was some grumbling, some whispered comments around Ashley, but she was too busy studying Chakwas. The woman was smiling now, obviously reassuring Kaidan that everything was going to be fine, but something… something was off. There was definitely something that the doctor wasn't mentioning, and Ashley couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of serious complication that was being hidden from them.

God, please let Shepard be okay.

**000**

Shepard dropped her head wearily into her hands while Hackett considered what she'd said. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that this woman, this impossibility in front of him, was for all intents and purposes Commander Shepard. There was dissent in the upper echelons of the Alliance over the matter, and considering the debriefing he just got, he doubted the Councillors were having a better time of it. While she flat out refused to tell him what information she'd used to, well, let's say _coerce_ the Council, he was certain the three alien representatives weren't toasting her name.

"You do know you've just brought a world of trouble down on you," he said, and it wasn't quite a question.

Her eyes were fixed on an invisible spot on the table, brows furrowing together. She sighed slightly, her shoulders drooping. "I know," she said. Her laugh was off-kilter. "I keep expecting that I'll wake up and this will have all been a bad dream."

Hackett couldn't blame her. Even now, the body of the other Shepard was being secreted down in the Council vault, tagged with every confidentiality clause he could think of. At first, before the sucker punch of shock had worn off, he'd entertained the possibility that this Shepard had killed the other, but that was before he saw the wild frenzy in her eyes as she attempted resuscitation and the shattering hopelessness that followed when her efforts failed. Spy or not, future visitor or not, there was no way this woman had killed the other. No way.

But that didn't stop this conversation from being the weirdest of his life. He'd held Shepard's cool, dead hand and yet here she was, seated in front of him, brooding over politics.

Anderson hadn't taken it nearly so well. He'd remained with the body until Hackett had ordered him away, and following that, the Captain had disappeared down into the wards, presumably to drink his grief away. The concept was not wholly unappealing, but Hackett buckled himself down and made himself focus on the Commander Shepard he still had.

"You've undermined them," he said, "and they're not going to like that. Even if they give you command of the _Normandy_ to take down Saren, they're never going to let it stand."

"I know," she said again, turning her frown on him. "There's a chance that the second I blow Sovereign out of the sky, they'll turn on me." She shook her head. "I just need to give Saren time to make it to the Citadel."

Hackett's mind pulled on the breaks. "The Citadel?"

She stared at him, perplexed before sharing a wry smile. "It's weird, you know. I just assume that you're going to know what I'm talking about, but…" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "That Conduit that Saren's looking for? It's not a weapon. It's a miniaturized mass relay. Connects to that relay statue on the Presidium. Saren's going to hop on through while Sovereign instigates a frontal assault. That way, when everyone's focus is on the massive war ship, he can sneak by and kickstart the Reaper invasion." Now her smile was more genuine, and if he didn't know any better, if he couldn't see those ghosts staring out her eyes, Hackett would've said she was laughing at him. "Would you believe me if I said that this entire station is a giant relay, Admiral?"

Frowning, Hackett turned to look at the cars whizzing past his window. He sounded older than he would've liked when he said, "It's hardly the most impossible theory I've entertained recently."

"True enough," agreed Shepard, running a hand through her hair. "So Saren's going to use the Conduit to get here and prep the relay so that the Reapers can come flooding through. Once they trash the Citadel, the races will be left adrift without centralized leadership. Then it's just a matter of indoctrinating a few people here and there and picking off the planets one by one."

Hackett cleared his throat. "If that's the case, why even let Saren get to the Citadel? Why not cut him off beforehand and stop the invasion that way?"

"Because this is one motive we know _for sure_ that Saren hopes to achieve. Even if the timeline has been a little skewed by my arrival, I know exactly where he's going to be and what he's going to be looking for. If we don't take him out then, if we don't take out _Sovereign_ then, we might not have another chance. We know his plan now, and that means we have a tactical advantage. If try to divert his course, he could become a complete wildcard. We'd have no way to plan for that."

It wasn't that Shepard – his Shepard, the one who was now down in the vaults – was tactically inept. She'd survived Elysium, hadn't she? But this Shepard, you could tell from the way her eyes whizzed back and forth that she was trying to think through every possible scenario. Hackett couldn't help but admire the attempt.

"There's something even more important though," Shepard continued. "The last time, the Council believed me about the Reapers after Sovereign attacked. It only lasted for about five minutes, but they believed. My job is to keep a low profile until then."

"Even if they end up believing you about the Reapers, that doesn't mean they won't believe you're not a threat. Or that you're from the future."

Shepard waved away that last. "I couldn't give a rat's ass if they believe me about where I've come from. Hell, I'm not sure if I believe me yet. I've shanghaied them for now, and I'll deal with the fallout afterwards. I earned their trust the first time, and maybe I can do it again. It'll be significantly harder now that they think I'm dangerous, but there you go."

There was a disregard for her own life hidden under those words, and Hackett didn't like it at all. One of the things that made Shepard such a damned good soldier was her stubborn ability to _keep going_. If she lost that, well, he didn't want to think about that. He hid his concerns by leaning forward and saying, "Shepard, if they take you in, we might never see you again. You'll disappear, and so will all the knowledge you have about the Reapers."

A curt nod was his answer. "Which is why I've got a job for you while I'm of chasing Saren."

Something deep and heavy settled inside his ribcage. "Oh?"

"You need to assemble an archaeological crew and hide them inside a detachment of Alliance engineers. People you trust implicitly, all of them. Send them to Eden Prime. About thirty clicks east of the current colony, they should start digging. Official story should be that they're laying new sewage infrastructure for a future settlement on Eden Prime, and how we can't let the tragic events stop human expansion, et cetera. Meanwhile, the archaeological crew will discover an old bunker and get us honest to God, definitive proof of the Reaper war."

Hackett couldn't help but be skeptical. "Oh?"

"A stasis pod containing a Prothean," she said, and held up her hand. "And before you say it, I _know_ it's impossible, but it's true. Find him, get him to me, and I can wake him up. I don't think even the Council will be able to deny a Prothean, do you?"

He wished he could share her conviction, but the truth of the matter was that her arrival was testing the bounds of the possible. The woman in front of him was, except for a few clear alterations, identical to the newly deceased Commander Shepard. If the Council were still unwilling to believe that she was who she said she was – and he couldn't blame them if that were so – then they might not be unwilling to consider the possibility that whoever had fashioned Shepard might also be able to do so with a Prothean. The thought was not a comforting one, but he hid it from her.

"You do realize," he said instead, "that secreting Prothean artifacts is one of the most severely punished crimes in the galaxy? We could tell the Council we're looking for Prothean tech. It's far from suspicious, given the beacon was found there only a few short months ago. They might not be pleased, but they wouldn't be able to stop us so long as we went through the proper channels."

Shepard's mouth had become a thin line. "It's not the Council I'm worried about. It's Cerberus."

"Cerberus?" said Hackett, frowning. "They've never shown a particular interest in Prothean technology before now."

"No, but they do have a certain inclination towards Reaper tech," said Shepard. "When I stumbled across their bases back then – or, hell, I guess it would be about now – they were making human husks from the tech found on Eden Prime. That didn't mean much when we thought it was geth technology." Seeing his frown deepen, she took a deep breath and tried again. "I mean, it was horrible, but it could easily be explained that they were trying to figure out a defense. But husks aren't geth technology, they're Reaper."

A chill ghosted along the back of Hackett's neck. "What does that mean?"

"It means that Cerberus has an insatiable appetite for information about the Reapers," said Shepard. "They're how we knew about the Prothean to begin with. If they think there's a way to use Javik to further their own ends, they won't hesitate."

"You sound like you know them well," observed Hackett. When she said nothing, he added, "Cerberus has always been at the forefront of human possibility. Before they went rogue, they were testing out some of the most innovative genome alterations."

Shepard's expression was almost as flat as her voice. "Is that so?"

There was a story there, something she's not sharing. This knowledge closed like a fist around Hackett, because if she wasn't who she said she was – or even if she was – and she had been working with Cerberus, her motives were in question. The simple fact of the matter was that despite Mindoir, despite Elysium, he couldn't imagine Shepard working with Cerberus – ever. He looked into her face and opened her mouth to tell her that if she had something to say, something to admit, that she better do it now but the Alliance receptionist comes over the PA system.

"Sir," she said, "I've got a message for Commander Shepard."

Shepard's face drew up in confusion, and was a mirror to his own, he was sure. "What is it?"

"It's, well, sir, the Consort would like to see her," stumbled the receptionist.

Anyone who spent even a little time on the Citadel had heard of the Consort. The best Hackett could figure, she was like some esteemed asari version of a courtesan. He raised his eyebrows at Shepard, who shrugged at him as if to say, _ I have no earthly idea._

"Did she say what she wanted?" asked Hackett.

"She said she wished to discuss the doctrine of Athame with the Commander."

The effect was instantaneous. The Commander's face shut right down, and she stood, shoulders back, looking every inch the leader Hackett supposed she must've been. Shepard had always been adept at her duties, but this woman, she was formidable. Despite his misgivings, Hackett couldn't help but be pleased she was on his side… for now, at least.

**000**

After the first hour of the vigil, Tali had excused herself from the Alliance hospital. It wasn't that she didn't care what happened to Shepard, or even that she was impatient, it was just that humans had _so_ many germs. It was one thing to visit Shepard, who was one of the first people on the Citadel to treat her like a person, and it was another thing to sit in the disease ridden waiting room. She could practically feel the germs swimming on the outside of her enviro-suit.

That didn't stop her from checking her omni-tool every five minutes though. Yes, she'd gotten the message from Liara that Shepard was going to be okay, and yes she'd heard the message that they were all going to meet up at the _Normandy_ tomorrow morning, but she wanted to be prepared. Just in case. Not that Tali could think of a single reason why her human Commander would need her, but that was completely beside the point.

She wandered around Zakera ward, trying to ignore the dubious glances that were being sent her way. It wasn't that she'd been unaware of her people's reputation prior to leaving on her pilgrimage, but, well, it had always seemed so far away. Then she'd come to the Citadel for herself, and, well… To say that things hadn't gone well would be like saying the flotilla was just a small caravan of ships.

Shepard had saved her. Shepard had offered to help her look for geth salvage to bring back as her gift. Shepard had treated her like any other person. Everybody on the _Normandy_ had followed her lead, and so it was easy to forget that everywhere else, she was just a suit-rat.

It bothered her that people's opinions mattered to her. She was an Admiral's daughter. She was better with technology than most of these boshtets ever would be. She was helping to stop Saren and the Reapers from destroying the entire galaxy. Surely that meant something, right?

The electronics shop she found was small but expensive. Shepard had given her a small stipend for her work on the _Normandy_, and while it wasn't enough to buy any new, shiny tech right off, she might be able to purchase some parts for the omni-tool she was working on. She wasn't sure which emotion dominated when it came to the mysterious tech: anxiety or excitement? Fear or curiosity? She wanted to make it work for its own sake, of course, but she also wanted to get it working because Garrus seemed so convinced that it would be important for Shepard.

It was the least she could do.

She walked over to the displays containing the spare parts. She'd need quite a few components, and she'd have to build some herself. Hopefully, between the parts she bought now and some of the geth salvage, she'd be able to have the omni-tool operational in a matter of weeks. Of course, that would depend on how much help Engineer Adams needed on the _Normandy_ and if Shepard took her on some more missions.

Her fingers had just closed around an omni-gel fabricator – the design didn't call for one, which was weird, but she thought she might be able to bastardize a few parts to repair the giant fabricator unit that did Keelah knows what – when she heard the tell-tale breathing of a volus beside her. She couldn't see his face under his suit, but one didn't grow up in the flotilla without learning to read body language. His was saying nothing good.

"I'm afraid we don't serve your kind here," he said, between noisy, alternating inhales and exhales.

First reaction? Anger. It wasn't fair that she should be denied the contents of this shop. Her people were constantly being singled out because they'd made a mistake with the geth. Nobody seemed to realize that just because they'd made broken one law (albeit, Tali could admit to herself, sort of a big one), that did _not_ mean that they were all criminals.

"I have the money to pay for it," said Tali defensively. Her fingers stayed clutched around the part.

"Money you probably stole," retorted the volus merchant. He held out his hand and gestured with her to hand over the part.

Tali opened her mouth to protest, but realized that doing so would only cause a commotion. Any altercation between a quarian and, well, anybody would end badly for the quarian, and she didn't really want to trouble Shepard for help more than she had already. With a sigh, she returned the component, and in the face of the volus' distrustful stare, she extricated herself from the shop, while cursing under her breath at the injustice of it all.

She was about two blocks down when she suddenly had that same part thrust into her face. Reeling back, she saw that it was held by a salarian who was studying her carefully. When Tali didn't take the part, he frowned. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I, er, yes," stammered Tali.

The salarian waved it at her. "Well?"

With trembling and confused fingers, Tali took the component. "Did you… why did you get this for me?"

Now his stare was getting unnerving, and Tali couldn't stop herself from fidgeting. "You are Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, correct?" he asked.

It had been a long time since she'd been recognized on sight, and she'd never been recognized by someone she didn't know. That was Shepard's quirk, though it happened sometimes to Wrex, or even Garrus when they were on the Citadel.

She'd left her shotgun on the _Normandy_, but she had several explosives on her belt and she knew she could taze the man in front of her if things got out of hand. That didn't stop her stomach from doing somersaults.

"Er, yes, that's me," she affirmed.

The stare broke and the salarian smiled at her. He clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. You're just the person I was looking for. My employer was looking for you."

"Your employer?" echoed Tali. "Looking for me?"

"Yes, yes," said the salarian with friendly impatience. "He has a job offer he'd like to discuss with you. I think it would be very advantageous. He is well aware that you're currently on your pilgrimage and wishes me to pass along that he is certain he can help you find an extraordinary gift for your fleet."

Tali's mind flopped around like a dying pyjak. There were as many questions as answers in that statement, the primary one being: _how do you know who I am_?

"I'm sorry, I've already taken a position aboard Commander Shepard's crew," said Tali, hoping that somehow wasn't too offensive.

"Of course," replied the salarian, putting an arm around her and leading her towards a fancy restaurant. "That, of course, will not impact the job offer on hand. Why don't you come hear what my employer has to say, and if you still aren't interested… Well, one thing at a time."

In the vids, this was how the girl ended up dead. Did this have something to do with Fist? With the Shadow Broker? Was she going to end up dying in some alley in the wards with nobody to identify her body? Oh, Keelah, her father would never know what happened to her. She dug in her heels and ducked out of the salarian's grasp, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry. I'm really not interested. My duties on the _Normandy_ keep me pretty busy."

The salarian sighed, crossing his arms. "Listen, I work for a very, _very_ important person. This person has reserved a very private room in that restaurant over there. All he wants is to talk. We're on the Presidium, not the lower wards. Three dozen people will see you enter, and you can be certain they'll notice if you never leave. Please, lunch is on us."

In the end, it was the promise of the great pilgrimage gift that got her. Geth technology and amazing omni-tools were one thing, but she couldn't help being curious at what this _very important person_ had to offer her. Like the salarian said, the room ended up being very private. They had to go down a hallway from the entrance, and they emerged into an opulent room – an opulent room with no windows. And it was empty.

Or so she thought, until the tell-tale fizzle of a tactical cloak dropped and so did Tali's mouth.

"I assume you know who I am?"

Tali could only nod at Councillor Valern and wonder if she was supposed to bow or curtsey or something. He sat at the head of the table and gesture to the seat on his left. Hands curling around one another, Tali sat. Her salarian friend closed the door and stood in front of it, eyes carefully on everything except the exchange.

"I assume Crihae didn't tell you any of the pertinent details?" asked Valern, and the question was directed as much towards the other salarian as it was to her.

"He said you had a job offer," said Tali.

"And he's right," said Valern, leaning back in his chair. "Are you hungry? Would you like to order anything?"

Truth was, Tali was extremely hungry, but she wasn't about to ask a _Councillor_ to buy her lunch. Especially not before she knew what he wanted. She shook her head.

"As you like," said Valern with a small incline of his head. He steepled his fingers together. "I expect you're wondering why I've called you here."

"A little, yes," said Tali. "The last time I tried to talk to anybody in the Council, I had evidence on Saren and I was turned away. Now, you buy me omni-tool parts and invite me out to lunch."

Valern frowned. "You were turned away?" He shook his head. "I'll look into this immediately, I assure you. The person responsible will be disciplined."

If he was faking his seriousness, he was doing a good job. That should probably have made Tali feel better, but it didn't. "You still haven't said what this is about."

He took a deep breath. "The truth is, the Council is worried about Commander Shepard."

Tali blinked. "About Shepard?"

"We've heard about her illness and her prolonged stay in the Alliance medical facility. The Alliance has been extremely forthcoming with information regarding her, no matter how… unorthodox, her condition seems to be." Here the Councillor paused, fingers curling around his chin as he retreated deep into his thoughts. He shook his head a moment later and returned his gaze to her. "The thing is, we're not sure they'd being entirely upfront with all their information."

"You think they're lying?" hedged Tali.

"Not precisely, no, but we think that they may be keeping select information to themselves for fear of harming humanity's position." The Councillor gave a shallow shrug. "We can't really blame them for this. If news about the true nature of Commander Shepard's condition got out, there would be widespread panic and dismay, especially among the humans. Saren might see it as an advantage and press his attacks. From a tactical point of view, withholding some information makes sense."

Everything he was saying seemed to make sense, but Tali couldn't help shifting in her seat. "And what does this have to do with Shepard?"

"Like I said, the Council is worried about her. With her current condition, we have no idea what sort of transformation the beacon might've had on her brain. We're meddling with forces we don't fully understand, and it would be a mistake to pretend otherwise. Commander Shepard has the makings of a fine Spectre, but with recent developments, we're concerned that she might not be completely herself."

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. "Are you asking me to spy on Shepard?" Tali couldn't keep the surprise from her voice.

"Spy? No. If we wanted to spy on her, we could've had her ship bugged." Valern shook his head. "But if those bugs were found, and if Shepard were already not in her right mind, accusations might fly. No, we'd rather have someone surreptitiously keep an eye on Shepard, to make sure she isn't a danger to herself or to others."

Tali very nearly snorted and told the Councillor that she was pretty sure Shepard _was_ a danger to others, if her kill count had anything to say about it, but she stopped herself because that didn't seem an appropriate thing to mention when a Council member asked you to watch your friend. And Shepard was her friend. How could she spy – and it was spying, no matter what the Councillor said – on her friend and not feel guilty?

But he was right too, that they had no idea what was going on with Shepard after the Prothean beacon and cypher, respectively. Even her own crew didn't know what had been happening to Shepard or how she'd been healed. Was it really that strange that the Council wanted to make sure she was okay? Still…

"I - I don't know," said Tali.

"Your loyalty does you credit," said Valern, "and I understand your reticence at taking the job. I believe my associate did mention that you would be rewarded with a pilgrimage gift that would make your efforts worthwhile, did he not?" At Tali's nod, he leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. His face was very serious. "The quarians were recently turned down for an embassy, weren't they?"

The room seemed to stop, and for a moment all Tali could hear was her own breathing. "Yes."

Valern smiled. "How would you like to try and help reverse that decision?"

**000**

This had the potential to end her career, and Tevos knew it. The thought did not sit well with her. After the meeting with the other Councillors – in which they'd all, oh so tentatively, agreed to give the _Normandy_ over to the potential impostor – she'd gone to an unmarked apartment in the wards, hood drawn up over her head. It was all very cloak and dagger, and it reminded of her commando days in more ways than one. Infiltration was an asari specialty.

Fortunately or unfortunately, no infiltration had been required. The house, through various companies and subsidiaries, belonged to Asari High Command, it was them she contacted on the secured QEC. In the simplest terms available to her, she described the meeting in great detail, putting particular emphasis on the fact that this second Shepard seemed to know about the beacon. To say High Command had been troubled was to say a hurricane was slightly damp. Their message had been clear: figure out what this supposed Shepard knew, and figure it out before she disappeared with the prototype stealth frigate.

The problem was that she couldn't simply request Patient B's presence – that would be far too telling, and would undoubtedly get the attention of her peers. The last thing Tevos needed was for someone to start thinking she'd engineered this Shepard ploy in some misguided, overly complex plot to… Well, there were a thousand things such a plot could accomplish. Funnily enough, Tevos wasn't much interested in any of them.

Which is why she sent one of her aides out of that same unmarked apartment wearing an identical outfit, and while the girl returned to Tevos' own apartment, the Councillor took the long and complicated back route back to the Presidium. Only, she wasn't headed for her own house. She was headed to the Consort.

Tevos had first met Sha'ira back in their youth. While Tevos had been a commando, Sha'ira had a brief stint with a merc group before discovering that she had a talent for opening people up metaphorically rather than literally. That hadn't stopped them from becoming friends and, sometime later, lovers. That was all ancient history now, but Sha'ira had proved invaluable to High Command in her own way. No other person was so able to get such confidential secrets out of her clients, and while the Consort was reticent about breaching confidentiality, she did, on occasion, _suggest_ that a certain person might be worth noticing.

This was the first time it had gone the other way around. Sha'ira didn't know about the beacon inside the Temple of Athame, and if everything went according to plan, she never would. But the fact remained that she'd entertained Shepard once before, asking for her presence then just like she asked for it tonight.

Tevos sipped at her water one hand gripping at her knee. Sha'ira leaned against the wall opposite, surveying her friend.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you this rattled," said Sha'ira.

Tevos smiled wanly. "I don't often fall into political quicksand I failed to see coming."

"You're not good at giving up control."

"No. I'm not," agreed Tevos with an incline of her head. She could tell that Sha'ira had questions, so many questions, but to her credit, the other asari said nothing. She seemed to sense that Tevos needed a clear head right now.

A voice came through the speakers, announcing that Commander Shepard had arrived, and would the Consort like her guest escorted in? At Tevos' nod, Sha'ira affirmed this request and moved into the doorway to greet her guest. A minute and a half later, the doors slid open and Shepard entered, a slight hesitancy in her otherwise confident stride. She accepted Sha'ira's hands, and her kiss on the cheek, but her brown eyes came to rest on Tevos and she went rigid, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Councillor," said Patient B.

Tevos stood, clasping her hands behind her back. "Spectre, I apologize for the deception, but I suppose you can understand why it was necessary. Sha'ira, might we have some privacy?"

"Of course, Councillor," replied Sha'ira graciously. "If you have need of anything, please do not hesitate to ask." With an incline of her head, she retreated out of the room, and when the doors closed behind her, it seemed oddly final.

"Do you know why're you're here?" asked Tevos.

Patient B kept on her toes like she was expecting an ambush, and frankly, given her situation, it was probably wise. "I've got a pretty good idea."

Tevos gestured to one of the chairs before sitting herself back down. "Please, make yourself as comfortable. I assure you, this meeting is only between you and me."

Not dropping her suspicion for a second, Patient B crossed and sat, propping her elbows up on her knees and clasping her hands together. She raised an eyebrow. "Are we sure this location is secure?"

Unable to help herself, Tevos gave the human an expression that said, _please_. "I have taken all the necessary precautions, Spectre. I am well aware that this would look quite damning for both of us if the wrong person took notice." She took a deep breath and decided to confront the human on her own terms – that was to say, with brutal honesty. "You have information that should you should not be privy to, and I demand to know how you got it."

Eyes wide, Patient B let out a low whistle. "That's the most forthright you've ever been with me." She sat back in her chair, not relaxed but pretending to be. Tevos couldn't help but shiver at the odd statement. If this woman was an actress, she was meticulous in her dialogue. "But I already told you. I got the information from you."

"So you said," affirmed Tevos, voice tight. "You said I told you to access the information before the temple was destroyed."

"No," said Patient B, her voice hollow, "you told me to access the temple before _Thessia_ was destroyed." A beat passed before she added, "I'd never been there before. It was… Well, I can only imagine how beautiful it must've been – must _be_, I guess."

This was not what Tevos wanted to hear. She wanted the truth. She'd never doubted that this Shepard would stick to her story, but she'd hoped... Tevos took a deep breath and remembered the words of the asari matriarchs from earlier this evening – _do whatever you have to in order to find out_.

Swallowing, Tevos stood. "There is one way to tell if you're being genuine. I won't be able to tell if your memories are your own personal delusion or the truth, but I _will_ be able to tell whether or not whether they actually exist or whether they're simply willful fabrications."

Patient B frowned, understanding flickering on her face. "You want to meld with me."

It was an unfortunate term, but Tevos knew what she meant. The prospect of the whole thing left a bitter taste in her mouth. While the rite was usually performed between couples for pleasure or procreation, it could also be used to transmit information. This wasn't generally done with non-asari, as the whole thing was taxing on an asari who did not have a partner capable of shouldering half the burden. It was almost never done with strangers, as it could be interpreted as rape by those who did not know the finer points of the matter.

What these people didn't understand was that, should an asari attempt to join without consent from the other party – in other words, should it be actual rape – the process was equally as painful for the asari committing the atrocity. Even the Ardat-Yakshi, wanton killers that they could be, seduced their prey before joining with them.

This was why Tevos held her breath as she nodded, anxious to hear what Patient B had to say. If she said no, Tevos might be required to initiate the process by force. The thought made her stomach roil.

But to her eternal surprise, Patient B got to her feet and walked over. "Okay, let's get this over with."

Glad that someone wasn't troubled by the whole affair, Tevos stood as well, bringing her hands to rest on Patient B's cheeks. She struggled to remain outwardly calm, especially with Patient B's relentless stare set on her. With a deep breath, she intoned, "Relax Spectre, and embrace eternity."

The experience could be difficult to describe to a non-asari. There was an ancient word to describe it, a word that had no modern equivalent but which roughly translated to _the art of letting go and floating through one's skin._ This made the whole thing sound incredibly relaxing, and in any other scenario it might've been. As Tevos' world went black, however, it was like pushing against a thick membrane that did not want to give. She cajoled her consciousness inside Patient B's – who was more strong willed than even Tevos had expected. There was a moment that could only be described as weightless before the human's mind slammed into her own.

There were images, so many of them. They filtered past Tevos like a vid on fast forward. A strange ship above the Citadel. Human beings being melted down into so much paste. Strange, deformed creatures amassing in droves, nightmarish parodies of the races… Earth, Palaven, Tuchanka, Thessia… all with that same strange ship, multiplied by a hundred, by a thousand, and the _screaming_ only drowned out by a deep and bone shaking sound… She watched one of those ships slam into a building on Thessia, a building she used to _live_ in, and she couldn't, she just _couldn't_…

The images faded, and she was left with a hundred different voices all crying out the same thing: _Shepard._

When the room spun back into focus, she was cradled in Patient B's arms. Her legs must've given way and her head was throbbing. There was the soft sound of sniffling, and Tevos realized it was her, realized she was crying, and she knew, deep down, that these tears belonged just as much to the woman next to her.

"That's not our future," denied Tevos, and it was closest she'd ever come to begging.

Patient B – no, that wasn't right. _Shepard_ licked her lips before they disappeared completely into a thin line. She took Tevos' hand in her own and said, with more conviction than Tevos had ever heard anyone use, "I'm going to change it, but I'm going to need help."

And though a small part of her knew she would regret this after she returned home for the evening, knew that it could seal her political doom, knew that there was no way Asari High Command was going to be pleased with her, wracked as she was with emotion and exhausted beyond all measure, Tevos nodded.

**000**

Something was up, that much was clear. Garrus could feel it in his gut.

Or it might've had something to do that he was sitting in Councillor Sparatus' office, ordered there by Executor Palin. Garrus had no earthly idea why the Councillor would want to see him. They'd never met before, and despite the connections his father maintained with the Primarch (and with Palin, incidentally), Garrus wasn't into the game of politics. In fact, he could give a pyjack's ass about politics. To his mind, it was messy and it got in the way of the job.

He'd been re-evaluating his stance since he met Shepard, who more often than not assured him that the rules were in place for a reason, but he'd yet to be wholly converted.

No, this was definitely odd. Palin had contacted him via omni-tool just as he was about to go to dinner with the crew. When he'd arrived in Palin's office, the Executor had said there was something important that needed to be discussed, and promptly led him down some back alleyways of the Presidum until they arrived at a door that turned out to be the secondary entrance to Sparatus' office.

Now he was waiting for the Councillor to arrive, tapping his foot against the ground. The only logical reason he could think of that he'd been called here was that someone had snitched about him and Bailey. Of course, were that true, he'd probably be in jail instead of on a plush sofa drinking the best alcohol money could buy. This stunk of something else, of a bribe, and it worried Garrus that he didn't know what it was.

The doors hissed open and Sparatus entered, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. "Garrus Vakarian. Thank you for coming."

Years of military procedure did not go to waste as Garrus set down his glass, rose and saluted in the space of seconds. "Of course, sir. It's not every day that you're invited to see a Councillor."

"Very true," agreed Sparatus. He inclined his head. "Please, as you were."

Garrus returned to the couch, albeit in a less relaxed pose than previously. His hands clutched at his knees and he couldn't help himself from leaning forward slightly. "Sir," he began.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here?" Sparatus poured himself a drink and sat down in an armchair opposite, his green eyes scanning Garrus.

It made the younger turian nervous, though he did his best to shrug it off. Behind those eyes were secrets that Garrus couldn't even guess at, and, if Shepard wasn't lying, someone who also knew about what had happened up on the Presidium. In the end, he nodded. "It had crossed my mind."

"I'm going to answer your question with another question," said Sparatus, swirling his drink. "Have you seen Commander Shepard since her admission into the Alliance hospital?"

Garrus willed himself to remain calm. "I have."

"And she seemed in good spirits?"

That was a tough question to answer. Garrus didn't know how much the Alliance had told the Councillors about Shepard's condition. He wasn't loyal to the Alliance by any stretch, but he was loyal to Shepard. According to Chakwas, the Commander was totally fine now, but Garrus couldn't shake the image of his Spectre friend laid low in that hospital bed, nor could he shake the feeling of finality that had accompanied her goodbye. _Try not to piss anyone off_, she'd said. Well, he could only do his best.

"As good as could be expected, considering." There. A nice, middle of the road answer.

Sparatus _hmm_ed and Garrus could tell from years of C-Sec interrogations that he was fighting to keep his voice casual. "And has she mentioned anything… unusual to you, lately?"

Now Garrus frowned. So this was what this was all about. The Councillor was trying to figure out of there was an intelligence leak. "No, sir." He debated mentioning the explosion on the Presidium, but as Shepard hadn't initiated that conversation, decided against it.

The Councillor sighed and set down his drink without even taking a sip. He leaned forward, eyes intent. "Enough dancing around the issue. We're not asari here, so let's stop acting like it. Has Commander Shepard ever given you reason to doubt her loyalty to the Council? Ever shown any xenophobic tendencies? Ever advance strictly pro-human interests?"

This came so out of the blue that Garrus didn't have to fake the shock on his face. Three seconds later, he remembered the questions Bailey had asked. _You really think she'd step up if it were her military doing the evil deeds?_ Shock gave way to indignation.

"No, sir. Never. In fact, she's been nothing but welcoming to all the non-humans aboard the _Normandy_. I've seen no reason to doubt her loyalty whatsoever. She doesn't seem to care about a person's race," said Garrus, letting the conviction he felt colour his words. After everything Shepard was doing, after everything she'd done, they were questioning _her_? Where were these questions when it was Saren in doubt? Not for the first time, Garrus was stabbed with a sliver of annoyance towards the turian mindset.

Sparatus went quiet. "You admire her, don't you Vakarian?"

"Yes, sir," said Garrus without hesitation.

"And would you consider yourself loyal to her?"

It was a leading question and Garrus knew it, but it didn't change his answer. "Yes."

A few beats passed while Sparatus stared him down. Finally the Councillor downed his drink and placed the glass on the table.

"In that case, you're probably not going to like what I'm about to ask you, so I won't ask. Vakarian, on behalf of the Council, I'm putting you in charge of surveillance on Commander Shepard. Anything she does, any toe she steps out of line, I want to know about it." He nodded once, to emphasize the point.

Garrus' mandibles flared. "Sir, I don't know if I can…"

"That's why I said I wasn't asking," interrupted Sparatus. "That's an order. If your feelings get in the way, remember that you have a duty to your turian brothers and sisters – and the rest of the Council races, of course – that came long before you met Commander Shepard. Are we clear?" The Councillor was no longer looking at Garrus, that green gaze instead focused inward. "There's trouble afoot, Vakarian. I don't know what's coming or how it's going to affect us, but Commander Shepard is right in the middle of it."

"The Reapers…" started Garrus, but was cut off by a slicing motion from Sparatus.

"Are a combination of Saren's mind games and Shepard's manipulation. Nothing more. If you believe otherwise, you're a fool. No, there's something else at work here, and I aim to find out what it is." When Garrus opened his mouth to – protest? complain? argue? - Sparatus finished with, "My receptionist will give you the extranet account where you're to forward your information. Keep it regular, and keep it confidential. You're dismissed, Vakarian."

Growing up with a father like his, Garrus knew when there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He stood, feeling like his limbs had been strapped to lead weights, and lumbered out of the room. Part of him argued that he could simply ignore the Councillor's orders, because he worked for Shepard now and the Council's opinion didn't affect him all that much anymore.

The larger, more pragmatic part told him that if he declined, one of two scenarios would play out, if not both. First, if things went against Shepard, he could find himself in as much or more trouble than his friend. Second, his family was still very much active within the hierarchy and that he could potentially ruin not only his own reputation, but the reputation of his father, mother and sister. He could imagine his father's ire, but it was the quiet disappointment of his mother and the hesitant resentment of his sister that would do him in.

So he accepted the details from the receptionist even while silently asking for Shepard's forgiveness. His one consolation was that if he knew Shepard, he knew she wouldn't do anything dishonourable, and he therefore would have nothing to report.

Spirits, what had she gotten herself messed up in?

**000**

Anderson stared out at the artificial night, a bottle of expensive whiskey in one hand and his glass in the other. The cars drove past, again and again, but all he could think of was Shepard.

He remembered her. He remembered her as the skinny, determined thing she'd been in basic. He remembered the soldier covered in sweat, blood and grime that they'd found on Elysium, dehydrated and near delirious, and with a spiderweb of red lines weaving down her arms from pushing her biotics too hard. He remembered her standing in front of the Council, accepting the honour he'd been denied years earlier. He remembered how there'd been nothing left of her in the end, with her blank eyes staring upwards and a thin line of red from the corner of her mouth, and her beautiful curls all shaved away and how her hand got cooler and cooler the longer he held it.

He downed what was left in his glass, and then refilled it. He almost wished, in that dim, numb way of the grieving, that he could cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke.

Or a nightmare.

He heard the door of his small apartment hiss open, and the sound of shoes on the laminate flooring. His apartment wasn't big, but it wasn't the studio he'd had on the Citadel all those years ago either. He heaved a sigh, knowing there was only one person who would seek him out now, only one person who would dare invade the sanctity of his grief.

"I don't want to talk to you, Steven."

No formalities here, not right now. Though his old friend hadn't technically done anything wrong, the emotional part of Anderson couldn't help but feel that by legitimizing Patient B, the Admiral had somehow doomed Shepard. Having two Shepards was some sort of paradox, and the universe had done its best to make it right, only it had chosen the wrong Shepard.

"It's not Steven," she said, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

His whiskey was suddenly a thousand times more appealing. He downed it. "Go away," he snapped. "I don't want to even look at you."

There was some hesitation behind him, but those footsteps eventually came to stand next to him. Despite himself, his eyes trailed towards the thing wearing Shepard's face, taking her in out of the corner of his eye. They'd shaved her curls off too, presumably so that no awkward questions would arise when she took the real Shepard's place. Her breathing was staggered, and she brought both her hands flat against the glass.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Anderson's lower lip quivered, and he solved that problem by pouring himself another finger and downing that too. "You might have Hackett fooled," he said, "but not me. I don't know who or what you are, but you're not Shepard. You may have her name now, may have her entire identity, but you're not _my_ Shepard. She was one of the best… and she died in that room. The second I find out you had something, anything, to do with that, I'll be coming for your head."

"I didn't," she whispered, dropping her forehead onto the glass as well.

"It should've been you."

She flinched and it took her a long time to respond. When she did, she said the last thing he expected to hear. "I know."

And somehow, she started to cry. Not the sobs he'd heard vaguely when he ran into the room to find Shepard limp with her doppelganger over her, attempting resuscitation. No, these were quiet, rolling down the curves of her cheeks before hitting the ground. Anderson steeled himself, pretending not to notice.

"The truth is, I should've died a thousand times. Came pretty close a few times, though how close is a matter up for debate." Her breath was fogging up the window and Anderson couldn't help himself from focusing on it. She took a deep breath and flexed her fingers. "Did she ever tell you how she found out she was biotic?" Anderson opened his mouth but didn't get the chance to reply. "Of course she didn't. I never brought it up with you and you never asked."

Her skin swirled with blue, casting strange shadows in the otherwise dark room. "I was a late bloomer, I guess. When the batarians came, I took my little brother – the real Devyn – and I ran into the woods with him. We could hear the gunfire and the screaming, and I knew that my parents were probably already dead even if he didn't. I was supposed to be meeting my boyfriend, though, and I was worried. So like an idiot, I told Devyn to wait where he was and that I was going to scope out what was happening. _Scope out_, like I was something other than a skinny, acne covered teenager."

Anderson didn't want to hear this. He told himself that it wasn't true, that she could be making the whole thing up and he'd never know, but he remembered Shepard's face when Devyn had been mentioned and the utter devastation he'd seen there and he knew that it wasn't a lie. She might be a lie, everything that she was might be a lie, but this, this wasn't.

"When I got to the place where Kyle and I were supposed to meet up – Kyle was my boyfriend – I found… I found his body surrounded by batarians. They'd burned him alive. He didn't even look human anymore. And because I wasn't the badass I guess I thought I was, the batarians they heard me. I tried to run but… They captured me. They were going to…" She cuts herself off with a shake of the head. "Well, I guess that doesn't matter. Anyways, Devyn he followed me, and I should've expected it because he hated to be left alone, and he saw them and they saw him and I told him to run, but he wouldn't. That stupid, idiotic shit picked up a stick and he ran at the batarians."

She wasn't just crying now, but weeping. Her tears reflected the lights from outside. Anderson was sick to his stomach and he wanted to tell her to stop, but he couldn't. Shepard was gone and only this monstrosity was left and she was offering him these tidbits, these things he always wanted to know but would never have asked for and he hated himself but he didn't tell her to stop.

"I don't think they have a word for what I did when they raised their guns towards Devyn. It was just instinct. One second I was surrounded, and the next second all those batarians had been thrown back, bones broken… And so had my brother. When I got to him, his limbs were all twisted up and his eyes were blank and his hand was crushed around that stupid stick."

"So when you were picked up, you took his name," said Anderson, understanding mixing with horror. It was only after he said it that he realized he'd attributed Shepard's story to this woman and he tried to think of a way to recant but could come up with nothing.

"I didn't want to be Deirdre anymore," she said. "Deirdre was weak and stupid. I wanted to be that person who would pick up a goddamned stick and try to save the day."

Anderson went to pour himself another drink, but it was only when he got the glass to his lips that he discovered he was no longer thirsty. "Why did you tell me that?"

"I may not be your Shepard," she said, pushing off from the window and turning to face him. When he didn't meet her gaze, she walked up to him until he could no longer ignore her. There was a hard edge to her jaw, though the effect was somewhat ruined by her bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks. "But you're not the only one in this duo who watched the other die."

She might as well have thrown him out the window. It probably would've elicited a less surprised response. Anderson could only gape at her.

"How?" he asked, because he couldn't stop. He didn't have to voice the whole question; she understood. _How did I die?_

"I destroyed us," she said quietly, her eyes flickering downwards and then out towards the Citadel. "Not all at once. Nothing so dramatic. But bit by bit, I got caught up in the image of playing the white knight. I wanted so badly to be Devyn, to make him proud, that I didn't stop to realize that sometimes chivalry and bravery will get you killed. I held back. I thought the universe would play by the dictates of my own morality – morality carved by an eight year old." Her hands clench into fists at her side. "I was wrong." She pushed back her shoulders, and he recognized that gesture. It was a completely Shepard thing, to throw her shoulders back like that before making some declaration. "That's why you should believe that I'm going to do everything in my power to make this right – to make it all right. To say I'm sorry."

He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't for her to turn to leave.

"What happened?" he asked, knowing this would lead to yet another answer he didn't really want to know. For the first time, he turned to look at her, full on, without prompting.

She paused, her back to him. He could see a thin scar running down the back of her head, and could only assume that it was cosmetic in nature – something to show the crew to explain her _miraculous recovery_.

When she looked over her shoulder at him, rather than upset, her face was dead. "We lost."

A very real fear tickled its way through his nervous system, and she seemed to realize it, because she nodded like that was what she wanted. He watched her go, trying to reign in his own feelings, to understand them. He wasn't waiting for her to stop a second time, but she did, though she didn't turn this time.

"If you want to know what your famous last words were… they were: _I'm proud of you_."

And then she was gone, the door hissing shut behind her. Those words floated around Anderson like an echo. He wasn't sure when he ended up on the ground, but there he was, his back to the glass of the window and those tears he'd been wanting finally cascading down his face.

**000**

Karin had been told, of course, about this impossible plan they had. She was the _Normandy_'s medical practitioner, and it was important that she know everything that might complicate treatment, including cybernetic augmentations and improved biotic implants. She'd also been present when the coroner – a salarian with lines on his face who, if he recognized the Commander, didn't say anything – sawed into Shepard's head and revealed her brain. It wasn't something she was going to forget anytime soon. The tissue looked like someone had taken a blow torch to it. Karin had to excuse herself in order to vomit, and when the tears came, she didn't know if they were genuine or because of the nausea.

Both Admiral Hackett and Captain Anderson were there in their dress blues, speaking seriously. "We're going to need you to keep an eye on her, Doctor," said Hackett. "We need to be kept apprised of any concerning behaviour."

"Of course."

"But remember," said Anderson, and if she didn't know any better, she'd say that he was nursing a hangover, "she's not our Shepard." He raised his hand to cut off whatever retort Hackett was about to offer. "I don't necessarily mean that she's a spy or a killer. I mean that experience changes a person, shapes the way they tackle obstacles. This woman, Shepard from the future or not, might not be the Shepard that we lost." His throat closed on those last few words, but he tugged his hands behind his back and stood up straight.

Hackett nodded. "A good point, but if she's getting too far away from herself, give her a nudge Doctor." He crossed his arms and looked troubled. "The last thing we need is people asking questions we can't answer."

"And if she…" Karin couldn't finish her statement, not with the eyes of the men on her. She swallowed. "If she turns out to _not_ to be Commander Shepard?"

There were frowns on both accounts, and a shared glance that Karin couldn't decipher. "If that happens, take her into custody and bring her here," said Hackett. "If she resists… If she resists, and you have no other choice, you take her down." The Admiral exhaled deeply. "But I pray to God it doesn't come to that."

There was a knock on the door and Hackett told the person to enter. It turned out to be, well, Dee. Karin couldn't quite think of her as Shepard, not yet, and judging from Anderson's face, he wasn't all the way there either. Hackett, conversely, hid any such qualms with perfect ease.

"Commander," he said, "we were just discussing the plan."

Dee stood in front of them, legs wide apart and hands behind her back, looking every inch the soldier. "Sir," she said, "may I make a request?"

A flicker of doubt swept across Hackett's face before he brought his hands together. "Yes?"

"May I have my amp back, sir?"

That wasn't what Karin expected, but Hackett was utterly unperturbed. He reached into his pocket and removed it, tossing it to her. She caught it and, fingers exploring the dimple under her skull, she slowly slid it into place. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, nodding to herself.

"Thank you, sir."

Hackett nodded. "Doctor Chakwas will give you a brief rundown of the last few weeks. Anything else, I'm sure you remember and, barring that, there are always side effects following brain surgery, yes?" He raised one eyebrow at Karin as if daring to contradict him.

She wouldn't have gotten the chance, because Dee interrupted. "Sir, there's one more thing." Her eyes bore into the ground. "And you're not going to like it."

"What is it, Shepard?"

"You need to… I want you to cremate her body," she said. "The other Shepard."

Silence reigned in the room, except for the large breath by Anderson whose eyes were suddenly bright. She could see him struggling to contain his emotion, and she could only guess at what he must be thinking. Karin herself felt that this would be deeply unjust. Shepard deserved better – a burial, a hero's funeral, something. But she knew that it would be impossible to do so while maintaining the charade.

A thought of a more sinister nature infiltrated her musings. What if Dee was trying to get rid of Shepard's body so there would be no tangible evidence that two ever existed? Karin rubbed at her arms to try and chase the gooseflesh away.

"Why would we do that?" said Hackett, flatly.

Dee swallowed. "I know how it sounds, but trust me. There are people out there who would use that body for their own purposes. After we defeat Sovereign, the Reapers are going to have a vested interest in Commander Shepard and they're going to go through quite a lot of trouble to study her. I know you think that the vaults are safe, but trust me when I say that they won't be, not for people with the cunning and the connections to get in."

There was an urgency to her little speech, but it was more frantic than manipulative – or so Karin hoped. "What could they do with a corpse?"

Those brown eyes turned towards her, and Karin immediately regretted asking the question. "More than you'd think," she replied flatly.

"We're not going to decide anything right now," said Hackett, "but we'll take the matter under advisement. Truth be told, we couldn't do much without the Council's permission now, anyways."

Dee's lips became a thin line, but she nodded. When Hackett stood and extended his hand, she took it, inclining her head at his wishes of good luck. She turned to Anderson, and neither one extended their arms. Dee's face crumpled slightly before she got it under control, nodding mostly to herself. She turned and vacated the room and Karin, clenching her hands together, was left to follow her after a curt goodbye to the two officers.

They grabbed a taxi towards the docks, and Karin couldn't help but notice how every muscle in Dee's body was tensed. It was like she was preparing for a fight. Maybe she was. Karin tried to keep her voice upbeat as she mentioned the visitors Shepard had received in the hospital, and disclosed the full – and fake – explanation for her supposed recovery. The doctor's eyes travelled briefly to the cosmetic scar on the back of Dee's head.

"What if they realize?" said Dee, and Karin was beginning to realize that this other Shepard was more impatient than the one she was used to.

"What if who realize what?" asked Karin.

"The crew," said Dee, "everyone. What if they realize that I'm not her?"

Karin laid a hand on Dee's arm. "But you are her, aren't you?" It embarrassed her how much it sounded like a plea.

"I used to be her," said Dee, and she ran a tongue along her teeth, "but three years is a long time, especially the three years I lived."

Karin had the unhealthy urge to ask exactly what had happened in those three years, but bit her tongue. She struggled to find something else to say instead. "Well, I hardly think they're going to determine that you're Shepard from three years in the future, so we can toss out that possibility. As for the rest… You still have her quirks, you know. I think you're closer than you think."

Dee nodded as she brought the taxi down at the docks. The _Normandy_ gleamed in the artificial dawn, and Chakwas could see a large group of crewmembers waiting near the entrance. While she found this comforting, Dee's breathing had become strictly regimented.

The crew held back as Karin and Dee approached, though the relief at seeing their Commander up and moving was palpable. Dee gave Karin's hand a small squeeze, catching the doctor off guard, before she surged forward, a tumultuous grin on her face.

"Has there ever been a lazier crew?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

So this was how it was going to be. Karin held back and observed. Dee hugged Ashley, Tali and Liara tightly in turn, prompting a rather large blush from the asari. She punched Wrex on the arm, and squeezed Joker's shoulder gently, the smile on her face growing from what Karin could only assume was a traded barb. For Pressly, she paused a moment before giving him a two handed handshake, though her body language said she wanted to give him a hug as well. Then came Garrus, and Dee's reaction was puzzling. She swayed – literally swayed – in indecision before shoving her hand out to Garrus, and then she held on a little too long before moving on.

It was Kaidan who elicited the largest response though, and the most concerning. She turned to see him there, wearing that small smile Karin knew was only for the Commander, and Dee just… froze. Her eyes scanned his face, as if unable to understand that he was in front of her, and she reached on hand out to touch his arm. The rest of the crew realized that this was time to find an elsewhere and they all started loading onto the _Normandy_, so they didn't see Kaidan pull her into a fierce hug. Shepard didn't reciprocate for several beats, but Karin could see her eyes were wide and shining as she finally wrapped her arms around the Lieutenant and buried her face in his shoulder.

Suddenly, Karin wished she hadn't been privy to Dee's true identity, because she knew, she just _knew_, that this meant tragedy.

* * *

_And thus do we finally leave the Citadel! Hurrah!_

_Sorry about the delay on this one. I'd been composing it - quite literally - since the last one was posted, but couldn't seem to get a free moment (or five) to write it all down. This is officially the longest chapter (so far) and with it, I've officially published 200k words. Exciting!  
_

_In other news, with the new Citadel DLC released... I've thought it over, and I've decided that, for the purposes of this fic, the "story" part will be discarded. There are a variety of reasons for this including: I'd have to rework the 50k I've already written because future!Shepard's reaction would be different, and, well, I have certain qualms with what I see as gross character/plot inconsistencies (even though I thought the DLC itself was super fun). That being said, the party and all its associated character revelations are fair game! _

_Hope you enjoyed and I'll try to update more frequently. :) _


	6. Six

O, that a man might know  
The end of this day's business ere it come!  
But it sufficeth that the day will end,  
And then the end is known.

**William Shakespeare, **_**Julius Caesar**_

Liara couldn't even begin to describe how relieved she was to see Shepard up and, from all appearances, perfectly fine. She sat with her hands clenching her knees in the comm room, waiting and pretending that the feel of Shepard's arms around her didn't still linger on her skin. She knew now, having witnessed the woman and Lieutenant Alenko embracing, that it was extremely likely that the Commander's romantic inclinations had veered in another direction, but the asari could not shake the deep longing that emanated from her bones.

It was absurd. She barely knew the Commander, and yet…

The door slid open and the Lieutenant walked in, staring down a grinning Chief Williams, before taking his seat. Shepard followed immediately after, but paused inside the room, her eyes skimming over the architecture of the room before settling on each of them in turn. Liara did her best not to blush under even this fleeting scrutiny, but it proved difficult.

"I never thought I'd see this room again," whispered Shepard, and then, seeming to remember herself, shook her head. The gesture highlighted the fact that her golden hair that Liara had so admired was long gone, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had hurt. The mood plummeted, and their Commander realized it. She smiled. "It's uglier than I remember."

"You can blame us for that," chimed in Garrus. "Turians can make some pretty striking art, but not when it comes to ships. Ships are tools, and tools are utilitarian."

Shepard's eyes rested on the turian for so long that he squirmed under her gaze. She swallowed and walked into the room, but instead of sitting, she leaned against the railing. "I've set a course for Noveria. We'll be there in about sixteen hours, give or take." She paused, her eyes glued to the floor. "I have… I've gotten some recent intel that suggests Benezia is there." Her eyes slid towards Liara.

The room pounded, and Liara struggled to remain calm as all eyes turned towards her. Most were pitying, and that was the worst. Her mother was a traitor. Her mother had used her position as matriarch to aid a genocidal… what? Terrorist? It was the only word Liara could think of and it stabbed through her chest like a hundred shards of glass. "If you're worried that I will attempt to hinder you in any way, Commander, you needn't. My mother has turned her back on the Council, and on me."

"Liara," said Shepard softly, "your mother is indoctrinated. It's not her fault."

The word rattled around in her mind, but Liara couldn't pinpoint exactly why Shepard was putting so much influence on the word _indoctrinated_.

"No offense," said Chief Williams, "but just because she drank the Kool-Aid doesn't mean she immediately gets a free pass, ma'am."

Though most of that meant absolutely nothing to Liara, she understood the general intent and while she was tempted to bristle with indignation, she was forced to admit to herself that it was true. Benezia had to be held accountable for her actions. No matter how persuasive Saren could be – and Liara had to assume he was incredibly so to convince an asari matriarch to turn her back on her beliefs – Benezia had ultimately made the decision.

Shepard dragged a hand down on her face and appeared to be counting, though Liara did not know what. "It's not like that. Indoctrination isn't something that Saren does, it's what the Reapers do. They infect the minds of their victims until… Well, let's just say that, in the end, there isn't even the semblance of free will."

"But the Reapers aren't even here yet," interrupted Tali. "How can they be controlling people's minds if they're not here? Can they broadcast long distance? But then how could they ensure that it would be received by the proper…"

"Sovereign is a Reaper," said Shepard flatly.

For a few beats, there was only the hum of the _Normandy_'s drive core in the small room. Then Lieutenant Alenko said, "Sovereign? Saren's ship?"

"Is a Reaper," repeated Shepard, crossing her arms.

That… that didn't seem possible. Suddenly, the threat was all too real. Sure, she'd been discussing the Prothean extinction with Shepard since they arrived, and Shepard had been recounting the details of her vision, but they'd been discussing events that happened fifty-thousand years ago. Liara was an archaeologist – she was used to thinking of the Prothean extinction as ancient history. To hear that one of the, the things that had wiped out that advanced civilization was flying around the galaxy even now…

Oh goddess, they were in trouble.

Even as she came to this terrible realization, a small part of her could only mourn her mother if what Shepard said was true. If the Reapers could control the minds of their victims, then perhaps her mother had never stood a chance? But Benezia was near nine hundred years old and had renowned mental fortitude. Surely if anyone could've fought off mental control, it should've been her…

Garrus leaned forward, clasping his hands. "How exactly do you know all this, Shepard?" His voice wasn't quite accusing, but Liara saw both Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams frown at the almost-implication.

Shepard stared at him for a second time, and there was a weight there that Liara couldn't quantify. But then the Commander raised a finger and tapped at her skull, a grim, unhappy smile infecting her face. "Amazing what one can learn by watching a civilization fall."

A thought curled into the centre of Liara's brain, and she stood. Of course, the second she did so, she realized that she'd once again drawn the attention of the entire room. She clasped her hands tight in front of her and tried to look as confident as Shepard always did. "Commander, there is a process among the asari – a way to link one's consciousness with another's…"

"I know," said Shepard.

The interjection sent Liara's mind skipping off in another direction, and doubt wiggled into her gut. Had Shepard been with another asari? And if so, then maybe it wasn't that the Commander was simply sticking closer to her own species, but was just completely devoid of attraction for Liara herself… Liara had never considered herself very beautiful – accomplished and intelligent yes, beautiful no – but it hurt to think that there was some fault in her that repelled Shepard's affections.

"Yes, well," stammered Liara, "I have spent nearly my entire life studying Protheans. If I were to join my consciousness to yours, maybe I would have insights into the last days of their civilization and we would be able to determine…"

"No," said Shepard. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Liara wasn't sure what was worse: the thought that Shepard didn't want to share the knowledge inside her head, or the thought that Shepard found her so utterly repulsive that she wasn't going to even consider the proposal. Liara's hands started to tremble, but she held her chin high and struggled to make her voice even. "Commander, this could be potentially beneficial for our fight against Saren."

"I said _no_," snapped Shepard, her hair gaining volume as the scent of ozone filled the room. Liara had never seen such angry energy surround the Commander, not even during some of their missions together. Shepard was normally calm, almost preternaturally so, and able to defuse as many situations with her words as with her gun. This was entirely out of character.

"Never thought I'd see the day," muttered Wrex, words laced with approval.

Shepard swirled on the krogan, who just blinked calmly back at her. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, turning away from them all. "You're all dismissed."

Liara opened her mouth to – well, to do something. Apologize, maybe. She didn't make it through before Lieutenant Alenko put a hand on her shoulder, and with a friendly incline of his head, led her out of the room. Her hands were still trembling, and in that second, she hated them.

"Shepard's under a lot of stress right now," said the Lieutenant gently, as he led her down to the crew area. "She's been through a lot in these past few weeks, and I can't imagine the pressure the Council has put on her now that she's better. And if she's right about Sovereign being a Reaper…" He let his silence speak for itself.

He was right, of course. Liara couldn't even begin to imagine the responsibility that Shepard had to bear. Perhaps it wasn't just a matter of Liara being somehow imperfect. Perhaps there was more to Shepard's emotions than Liara had even bothered to guess. The thought sat sour in her stomach, and didn't make her feel any better about the current situation.

It didn't help that it was the Lieutenant comforting her. She couldn't even resent him; all he'd ever done was try to help her feel welcome. Liara almost wished that he and Chief Williams could have a personality transplant, because at least then she'd be free to dislike him.

"You're right, of course. Thank you, Lieutenant," she said, offering up her wavering version of a smile.

The Lieutenant returned with one of his own, steadier but not much larger. "I've told you to call me Kaidan."

"Kaidan," she repeated, and he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before disappearing off to do whatever duties he had.

Liara stayed where she was, body slumping against the wall.

She heard Tali's tentative, "That was… that wasn't like Shepard, was it?", followed by Garrus' fractured, "No, but this waiting around has been fraying all of us a little." Wrex, who Liara could only assume pulled up the rear, said, "I always knew Shepard had a hell of a quad. Now, if only she'd show it a bit more," and that was enough. The asari escaped into the medbay.

Doctor Chakwas was sitting at her workstation, head propped up on one hand, staring at nothing. She didn't even notice as Liara approached, and jumped when touched. She turned quickly with a tired smile. "Oh, Liara. I'm sorry. I was a million miles away. Can I help you?"

Liara shook her head. "I just wanted to see if you were all right."

"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. She placed her hands in her lap. "How did the debriefing go?" There was a sense of huddled expectation, and Liara hesitated. Something must've shown on her face because Doctor Chakwas sighed. "Oh dear. What happened?"

Opening her mouth to reply, Liara was cut off by, "I was unnecessarily abrupt, that's what."

Shepard stood in the doorway, running a hand back and forth over her now bare scalp as if she couldn't believe her hair was gone. It was the first time Liara could ever remember Shepard looking repentant. Shepard seemed to realize what she was doing so she shoved her hands in her pockets. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," said Liara, perhaps a trifle too quickly, and gestured into the small space she'd claimed as her own. Shepard walked in first and Liara followed, given a quick smile from Doctor Chakwas as reassurance.

Shepard stood as she had in the comm room – with her back to the room. Despite this, it was clear she was deep in thought. "I owe you an apology," she said.

"Shepard, please, you don't have to," started Liara, but Shepard waved it away.

"Your suggestion… It would've been a good one, and I would've accepted if things were different. But they're not." She took a deep breath and turned around. "You've been a good friend, Liara, and you should know that I trust you implicitly, but in light of the last few weeks… The beacon was dangerous, and the memories I now carry… I won't subject you to them."

How was it possible that she now felt worse for assuming that Shepard's intentions had been anything other than honourable? Liara tried to shove it down, because she knew, somehow, that the woman in front of her would be upset to know the disquiet she'd inadvertently caused.

"Shepard," said Liara, and hazarded a touch to Shepard's arm, "I don't know what to say."

Shepard shrugged and smiled slightly. It lasted only the space of a few seconds before dropping away. "About your mother…"

"She will have to face the consequences of her actions," said Liara quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. "Regardless of whether they were her fault or not."

"Yes," agreed Shepard, "and that's why I'm not taking you along when I go to Noveria."

"What?" breathed Liara. "Shepard, you have to let me come! She's my mother, my responsibility!"

"No, Liara, she's not. Benezia, as she was, is dead." Shepard's eyes were downcast. "There's only one way this is going to end. I don't want you to have to kill what's left of her – or to have you watch me do it."

When Liara was young, Benezia's favourite colour was yellow. She'd planted yellow flowers on their apartment terrace – the same blossoms that Liara attributed with Shepard's hair – and had cultivated them with care. Benezia had a lot of responsibilities even then, and Liara could remember countless hours poring over books while her mother conducted meetings with her followers, or fellow matriarchs, or even foreign delegations. But after each of those visits, Benezia would approach and sit with her, asking what Liara had learned. Years later, Liara realized that most of the tidbits and factoids she'd shared with her mother during those small moments were widely known, but her mother had always made her feel special, made her feel smart. It was Benezia who had encouraged her to attend university despite her young age, and she'd arrived at Liara's graduation, beaming with pride.

Fumbling for her chair, Liara sat. Her lower lip trembled, though she tried to hide it. She was almost good at it now. "Is there nothing we can do, Shepard?"

Shepard still wouldn't look at her. "I'm sorry," she said, and it was enough.

Tears leaked out of the corner of Liara's eyes of their own accord, and she tried to wipe them away quickly, to prove to Shepard that she could be just as strong as the rest of the crew. She was stopped by a pair of arms circling her, holding her close. Shepard smelled of the hospital, of disinfectant and military issued soap and, vaguely, underneath, there was the smell of ozone, of her biotics. Liara's hands held onto Shepard's shirt, and she cried.

**0-0-0**

Kaidan tried to focus on his duties, really, he did. He monitored the communications console near Shepard's room, and told himself that he'd been stationed there since the _Normandy_ first took off, and that his standing there had nothing to do with waiting for Shepard. He didn't quite believe it yet, but it was true enough that it the flurry of emotion he felt was closer to a mild rainstorm than a hurricane.

It had been hard to keep it together when she'd shown up. He hadn't done a very good job hiding his feelings, and that was a dangerous line to be toeing, especially with the first ever human Spectre. After her stint in the hospital, Kaidan could only imagine that more eyes were on her now than ever before. Probably, the Council was interested in making sure that their new investment wasn't defective. The thought materialized out of the ether before Kaidan could stamp it down and he sighed, leaning his weight on the console. From the sounds of it, he'd been listening to Ash for too long.

But it was true, wasn't it? The Council must be breathing down her neck for Shepard's composure to crack.

That was a lot of responsibility for a person who'd just been discharged from the hospital. Anyone else, and they probably would've made her stay for a few days more observation. He still had a hard time believing that they'd isolated the problem and just zapped it away. The memory of Shepard's body convulsing in pain hadn't quite disappeared from the space behind his eyelids.

He sighed again, and risked a look towards the corridor that led to Shepard's quarters. He wanted to help, but he wasn't sure how. He wanted to talk to her, to be around her, to make sure she wasn't dying in there. It had been several hours since she'd last been seen. Usually, she did her reports at the mess table. If not that, she usually kept her door open, but not now. Now it was closed, and it made Kaidan nervous for more than one reason.

When she'd emerged from the medbay, presumably to talk to Liara, she'd had her arms wrapped tight around herself. She'd glanced up and caught his eye, and he'd offered her a small, comforting smile. It had become a small habit between the two of them. It wasn't anything romantic, and it definitely wasn't anything sexual, but it was always special, especially when she unfailingly returned one of her own. They'd just been a man and a woman telling each other, _we'll get through this_.

There'd been no reciprocating smile today. Shepard's eyes had dropped and she'd hurried away to seclude herself.

It wasn't his place to check up on her. No, that would definitely be upsetting the chain of command. He should see to his duties then bunker down for a few hours in case Shepard decided she needed him on Noveria. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his eyes kept drifting back towards the corridor.

Aw, hell with it. He moved away from the console and towards the Captain's quarters. It wasn't as though Shepard was going to report him. If she were, there were a dozen other examples of fraternization she could've called him on before now.

Kaidan rang Shepard's door buzzer before he'd decided whether he was really fully committed to the plan he'd just devised.

"Yes?" called Shepard.

"Commander," said Kaidan. "It's me. Can we talk?"

There was the slightest hesitation, but it was enough to frazzle his nerves. Then the door unlocked and hissed open. He entered slowly and found that, rather than the meticulously clean quarters, Shepard's room was littered with the debris of what looked like the mother of all research sessions. She had schematics and lists pasted to the walls on what looked like notebook paper. Elsewhere, datapads projected schematics and maps. Above Shepard's desk, there was a calendar that ran… Wow, it looked like, what, three years?

He drifted over to the table to investigate before his attention was completely snagged by the woman in question.

Shepard herself was hunched over a console at the desk. She barely glanced up at him, but he saw her hand bunch into a fist. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

His rank was like a punch in the mouth. When was the last time he'd been something other than Kaidan or LT to her? And what had brought on this change?

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, and as an afterthought, added, "ma'am."

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine," she said, though her voice sounded as though it were coming from down a long tunnel.

Kaidan surreptitiously inspected the scar down the back of her skull. "Are you sure, Shepard? Up in the comm room, that wasn't… that wasn't like you."

She stilled completely but Kaidan could see the pulse jumping in her throat. She slowly turned to him. "How do you mean?"

"I've never seen you lose your temper," said Kaidan and at her frown, held up his hands. "And I get it. You have a lot on your plate. Probably more than I can imagine, but I just want you to know that if you need to talk, I'm here."

Shepard's eyes softened, though she remained far from her usual self. "There it is," she said, though it didn't seem to be directed at him.

"What?"

She shook her head, digging the palms of her heels into her eyes. "Nothing. Nevermind." She dropped her hands into her lap. "I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. No damage done. The beacon gave me some extra info, and my brain isn't turning to goo… win-win, right?"

Something about the way she was talking was less than reassuring, but Kaidan couldn't quite figure out what it was. He took a step forward. "I also wanted to apologize for my behavior upon your return. I was out of line. I should've behaved more professionally."

There wasn't even a hint on her face. "Don't worry about it," she said in an equally ambiguous voice.

"It's just that I, well, after seeing what happened in the hospital," said Kaidan, and he tried to keep his voice even. He only just failed. "I care about you Shepard, and I worry."

Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her face away from him. "I know."

That was it? _I know? _Kaidan struggled to find something else to say, something else to add, but wherever he reached, he found nothing. That tunnel between them seemed to be stretching longer and longer, and thought he was only a few feet away, there was this abyss he didn't know how to cross. The line between personal and professional had been becoming increasingly blurry this past while, but now, now the whole thing had sunk into a quicksand of melted emotions, and he wasn't sure how to pull the whole thing out.

Shepard took a deep breath and turned back to her work. "If that's all, Lieutenant, you're dismissed."

His military training kicked in, and Kaidan saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

He was nearly out the door when she called, "Oh, and let Wrex and Ash know they're on the roster for Noveria. Suggest they get some sleep."

"Will do, Commander," said Kaidan.

As the door clicked locked behind him, Kaidan told himself that this was a natural progression. He'd known that their easy camaraderie, their intimate manner could not continue while they both still served on the same ship. He'd _known_. That barely numbed the sting.

Rather than going back to work, he hopped onto the elevator and descended into the shuttle bay. As he expected, Ash was at her workstation, looking down the scope of her rifle, obviously testing out some new mod. Kaidan shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered over, leaning his body against the table. Ash raised one eyebrow at him, before shrugging and continuing with her work.

"Things are different now," said Kaidan.

"No shit," said Ash, opening her rifle so she could fiddle with the heat sink. "Sovereign's a fucking Reaper."

There was a pause while Ash presumably waited for him to jump in, but he found himself pounding down a blush instead. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at Ash. "I was talking more about Shepard. I'm worried."

"Of course you are," she muttered, shaking her head. "Anything in particular?"

"How she blew up at Liara, for starters."

"This might come as a surprise, LT, but Shepard's got a lot of crap to deal with," said Ash, as she used a screwdriver to pop out her old sink.

"I know that," objected Kaidan.

"Course you do," said Ash, "we all do. Difference being, we can't all be buttoned up like you all the time."

Kaidan bit back a retort. There was a reason why he held back, even if Ash didn't know that. She wasn't a biotic, so she couldn't understand. One slip, one temper tantrum, that was all it would take to cause immeasurable damage – and damage with lasting consequences. He knew that, and somehow, he was sure that Shepard knew it too. How could he explain to Ash that valuable lesson without getting into details?

So he said, "Shepard isn't usually all that buttoned up."

Ash stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you serious? The rest of us would've been screaming bloody murder if we'd been dealt Shepard's hand. I think it's totally normal that she lost it. Besides, the asari isn't military. I'd get annoyed if a civilian was constantly questioning my orders too."

"She has a name," rebuked Kaidan, "and Liara's dealing with a lot right now."

Ash snorted. "Yeah, like rejection."

There'd been rumours for weeks that Liara was interested in Shepard. Seeing the two of them together, it was hard not to compare the asari with a puppy vying for attention, even if she was old enough to be his grandmother. It was hard to tell, though, how much of that was genuine attraction, how much was gratitude, and how much was simple inter-species miscommunication. She'd looked crestfallen after the ordeal, but that didn't mean anything, did it?

"I meant with her mom," said Kaidan.

Pausing in her ministrations, Ash nodded slowly. "I know. That's tough, especially if what Shepard said is true. Indoctrinated. That doesn't sound good." Her shoulders slumped. "God, I wonder if Shepard is going to bring her with."

Which reminded Kaidan of why he'd come down in the first place. "No," he replied. "She's taking you. She sent me down to let you know."

Ash's eyebrows climbed to her hairline. "Me? Why me? Who else? You?" Kaidan's eyes rolled towards Wrex, who was leaning up against the wall a few meters away. Leaning back, Ash followed him and her eyebrows disappeared completely. "No shit! Say whatever you want, but Shepard's got balls bringing a krogan onto a business planet. He's going to be like a bull in a china shop." Ash frowned, as if considering all the possible ways things could go wrong.

"I wonder why she chose you two," said Kaidan.

"We're the two least likely to put up with bureaucratic bullshit?" offered Ash. "Maybe Shepard's hoping that by bringing Wrex, she can skip all the small talk."

Kaidan couldn't help his smile. "And you?"

"I was asked for my charming personality. Obviously."

"Obviously," agreed Kaidan, and the two lapsed into companionable silence. "Hey… You keep an eye on her, okay?"

Ash scoffed. "No, I thought I'd take in the sights of the snow planet, spend some time in the bar, maybe rent a hotel room. Of course I'll keep an eye on her. Contrary to popular belief LT, you're not the only one with a vested interest in keeping Shepard alive."

It was amazing, really, how Shepard could command such loyalty from people she barely knew, himself included. Underneath Ash's sarcastic comments, he saw his concern take root and begin to flower into responsibility in her eyes. She would take care of Shepard to the best of her ability, and he couldn't ask for more than that. Well, except for Wrex to stand in front of Shepard at all times as a krogan meat shield, but Kaidan didn't fancy the searching look he'd get from the krogan or the talk he'd have to share with Shepard were he to even ask.

There was no sign of Sovereign in the sector, and Benezia was just one asari. The mission should be as clean as they come.

**0-0-0**

Wrex was damned pleased to finally get some action. At least, he was before he realized they were on the paper-pushing capital of the galaxy. The only thing that made the whole ordeal even marginally worth it was watching the yuppies in their suits flinch when he looked in their general direction. Well, that and Shepard.

He didn't know what had happened to her in that hospital, and he wasn't sure he much cared. As a general rule, he avoided the things at all cost – easy to do when you have tertiary organs. Hospitals meant tests, and tests meant medicines, and all you had to do was head to the female clans on Tuchanka to see what _medicines_ did. So no, he hadn't visited, and no, he didn't feel bad about it. Shepard was a warrior, but until this trip, he'd considered her softer than most, even if she could be deadly when she ran out of fancy words to use.

But here on Noveria? He was seeing a side he hadn't before, and he liked it.

The laughable human security had tried to take their weapons – Shepard's, his and Ash's – upon landing. Instead of handing over her weapons and talking it out like usual, Shepard had turned her gun on them and flat out refused. It was only the timely intervention of yet another human that saved the so-called security team from being blown away. He would've done it, Williams to his right would've done it, and from the grip Shepard had maintained, she would've as well.

Interesting.

But then, the real kicker came when they were poking around in some cordoned off area for some turian and some human confronted them as they were entering the office. Now, normally, this is where Shepard would've tried to talk her way out of the encounter, asking the other person to _please stand down_ or whatever other crap she could think up. This time? Before the woman had said two words, a pistol shot sliced through the air and down she fell, hole neatly between her eyes.

"I do not have time for this bullshit," hissed Shepard as she and Williams fell into cover. Wrex barged right in and took out three mercs on his own. He turned to deal with one of the few that remained, but the merc's head exploded in skull and brain fragments, and there was Shepard, shotgun at the ready, stepping over his corpse like was nothing.

Very interesting.

"Holy shit," said Williams, taking in the carnage. "Was that really necessary, Commander?"

Shepard fingered her pistol, mouth set with resolve. "The intel we want is upstairs. Let's get it and move out," she said.

"I thought this was going to be a boring mission," said Wrex, holstering his weapon. "And here I am, almost having fun."

"Glad to be of service," muttered Shepard, pushing the button for the elevator.

"This isn't your usual style, Shepard," said Wrex as he trundled up the stairs after her. "Remember when we first met? You let those warehouse workers go, even though it would've saved time to just kill them."

Williams' frown was practically audible, but Shepard didn't seem to give a damn. She cast one glance over her shoulder, unperturbed. "There's a difference between mercs and innocent bystanders, Wrex."

"As I recall, those _innocent bystanders_ had guns pointed at us."

"Not the same."

Wrex grunted, but gave up trying. There wasn't really a difference, but Shepard liked to make her own little rules to make her feel better about killing. She'd get a lot more sleep if she just stopped caring so much. He wasn't a typical krogan, who believed that battle was the be all end all of life – one look at his species should be enough to deter anyone's thoughts in that regard – but he still didn't understand all the emphasis on morality and rules that people kept spewing about. In the end, blood was blood, and unless you were worried about a particular colour of stain, it didn't matter whose it was.

Shepard navigated the area like she knew exactly where she was going, and who knew? Maybe she did. She retrieved an OSD full of information from the back office, tucked it into her belt, and immediately swapped her pistol for a shotgun.

"There's bound to be some trouble," she said, taking point. "Best get ready."

It was the bitch from the docks, trying to look tough and failing utterly. What this planet needed was more krogan security – you just couldn't take anyone else seriously. This woman gave it a good shot, but Wrex had seen more intimidating pets on Tuchanka. "You know what we do to cop killers?" she asked.

"Don't care," said Shepard.

Her arm moved and suddenly the security head and her entire detail were being scattered by a biotic shockwave. The woman didn't go far, but she only barely hoisted herself up on her elbows when Shepard was there. Half a second later, the back of the woman's skull was gone, bone and brain splattering like spilled varren stew. Wrex took out a few that stood up, as did Williams, but by and large, Shepard took out the most, deep in the thick of them. When they'd finished, the office had gotten a new paint job, and Wrex thought it was an improvement, personally.

"I didn't know you could do that," said Williams. "I've never seen that before."

"Seen what?" asked Shepard.

"That moving… lightning… thing," said Williams, gesturing with her arm in much the same way Shepard had done. "I don't think LT has used it, and I haven't seen T'Soni use it either."

"Yeah, well," said Shepard, holstering her shotgun, "a girl's got to have secrets."

Which, it was turning out, was especially true in the case of Shepard. Could it be that the Council had pushed her too far during her stint in the hospital? Wrex knew none of the particulars, which suited him just fine, but he could imagine how someone's temper might flare when confronted with those screeching pyjaks for the millionth time. Frankly, he was surprised Shepard hadn't blown away the lot of them already. From where he was standing, they had their heads so far up each other's asses, it was a wonder they hadn't suffocated to death by now.

They descended to the ground floor in relative silence. Wrex was hoping they'd finally finished being errand boys for everyone and their brother. Williams seemed to be contemplating Shepard's change of tactics. Shepard was a complete blank slate, and that was new. Not that she was normally chatty – or, not on missions anyway – but he'd been able to read her tells for some time. She ran her tongue over her teeth when she was thinking hard about something, or when she was nervous. She would flex both hands after a fight if she wasn't satisfied with the outcome, usually because she let someone live she'd much rather have killed, if not for her _morals. _Today, though, there was absolutely nothing.

The elevator opened and that receptionist woman came forward, a knowing look on her face. "Apparently there was some commotion coming from that particular office."

"Yep," said Shepard, and before the woman – Parasini, Wrex remembered – could say anything else, Shepard leaned back and crossed her arms. "This is the part where you reveal to me that you're undercover and ask me to get Lorik Qui'in to testify, right?"

Parasini reeled backwards, eyes darting nervously around the hall. "I – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay then," said Shepard with a shrug. "I'll just get Qui'in to testify because Anoleis deserves to fry. Works for me." She brushed past Parasini. "I'll come to see you when I've secured the testimony. Have a garage pass ready for me."

Williams jogged to catch up, and Wrex followed, but not before giving this Parsini woman a once over. She was genuinely surprised, staring after Shepard with her mouth wide open. She managed to get control of herself when she noticed she was being watched, smoothing out her dress. Wrex grunted and went to catch up with the women.

"But how did you know?" said Williams.

"It was pretty obvious," said Shepard, and that was going to be that until she caught Williams' gesture to continue. "Listen, when a bureaucrat starts giving you inside information to help you out, there's always a catch. Because she did it without her boss' consent, there were really two options. Either she was undercover or she was conspiring to have him removed. I just chose one and went with it."

"Smart," said Wrex.

"Something like that," agreed Shepard, and led the way towards the bar.

Another elevator ride, and Shepard was standing in front of Qui'in with the same no-nonsense body language.

The turian was pleased to see her. "Commander, good to see you. I trust you found what we were looking for?"

"You're going to testify against Anoleis," said Shepard, staring down the turian.

Wrex snorted, which did nothing to help the turian's rapidly declining mood. "Now that you have my property, you're trying to dictate how I use it?"

Shepard shrugged. "The way I see it, you have two options. Either I give you what I found, and you get to open your offices back up. Anoleis will still be in charge, but hey, it's not like he's ever going to give you trouble again after you busted up his merc ring, right? Or, if you're smart, you'll testify. Anoleis is out of the picture, and everyone gets a not-so-subtle reminder about what happens to people who get too uppity for their britches. Hell, with the power vacuum left over, who knows? Maybe some eloquent turian impresses the higher ups and gets a cushier job than he planned for."

Normally, Wrex hated talking to people. Why try and convince someone you're right when you can just blow them away? This was especially true with people too stupid to know better. But Shepard, she wasn't budging an inch. She'd laid it out straight, and the turian's beady little eyes were mulling over the possibilities. If he followed her advice, he might advance himself and then Shepard would be owed a favour. Wrex had been in the mercenary business a long time, and if there was one thing more valuable than a good gun, it was a favour, even if only slightly.

"All right," said Qui'in with a sigh. "I'll testify. Go make the arrangements."

"Pleasure doing business with you," said Shepard with a sardonic twist. She turned and walked away, taking a deep breath when they were far enough away from the turian that he wouldn't see it.

"That was pretty ballsy, ma'am," said Williams, smiling. "But what if he'd said no? He probably wouldn't have been willing to part with the garage pass after that, and Parsini probably wouldn't have given you one either."

"He didn't have a choice, Chief," said Shepard. "If he didn't testify, I wouldn't have given him what he wanted. He knew that."

There was something about the way it was said that made Wrex pay attention. As they descended yet another elevator (seriously, how many of the blasted things did one place need?), he studied her face. There was something hard under the skin, something ruthless. Shepard had always been tough – he would never have joined her crew otherwise – but he'd never believed, even for an instant, that she'd be willing to shoot an unarmed civilian to get what she needed, especially after her little spiel about the warehouse workers earlier.

He almost believed it now.

**0-0-0**

Okay, on the list of creepy places Ash had been, the broken down research lab on the snow planet with the giant acid-spitting bugs was at the top of the list. And here she thought the crew had maxed out when they encountered the giant sentient plant who could spit out zombies and asari clones. Or the planet with the spikes that turned human beings into drooling, tech-infused husks. Come to think of it, there didn't seem to be a world they visited that wasn't at least a _little_ creepy. When a compound full of biotics run by a psychotic major-cum-preacher became your definition of normal…

Well, travelling with Shepard was certainly never boring. If this ever got made into a vid, they'd certainly have a lot of ammunition.

So far, they'd been attacked by mercs, geth, krogan, rachni, and now one psychotic asari. Shepard was a machine when the combat started. It was like she knew exactly what was going to happen half a second before it did, and Ash had never seen her Commander light up biotics like the ones she was doing now. Besides that thing from before – Shepard called it a shockwave, so yeah, the _shockwave_ – she hadn't done anything spectacular or new, but the precision and the power… It was damned impressive. Ash had no idea if it was anything close to what the LT could do, but that wasn't surprising, considering he spent half his time holding back.

Shepard didn't hold back. Never had, but she was almost single-minded now, like she was getting through this as quickly as possible.

Wrex threw a particularly painful looking warp field at the asari, who doubled over in pain despite herself. Then Shepard came up the side and pulled her arm back, body glowing with eezo, and shoved a throw at the woman who… exploded. Ash couldn't help but gag slightly as she wiped some thick purple goo from her cheek.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"Biotic detonation," said Shepard, nudging a chunk of Alessia Iallis with her boot as she holstered her shotgun.

"Thing of beauty," said Wrex.

Now, it wasn't that Ash disliked Wrex, exactly, but he was just so… _krogan_, and there was something highly uncomfortable about the way he and Shepard were fighting in sync. In fact, there'd been something a little off with Shepard this whole trip. It reminded Ash of the ruthless pragmatism demonstrated by some of her COs over the years – notably, those who had served during the First Contact War. It wasn't bad, not really, but it was different than the Shepard she was used to, the Shepard who tried to talk her way out of situations and only beat the bejesus out of people too moronic to take her mercy. She was reminded of Kaidan, and the concerns he'd raised back on the _Normandy_.

But then she reminded herself, _Sovereign is a Reaper_ and _Reapers can control people_ and _If Saren finds the Conduit, then the Reapers will have the Conduit, and the Reapers destroyed the Protheans who were, from the sounds of it, eight million times more advanced than we are…_

So from where she was standing, yeah, it made sense. The whole galaxy was at risk – well, more of a risk – and Shepard didn't have time to hold everybody's hand if she wanted to get to the Conduit first, especially after her little vacation in the hospital. Not that you'd know that only a day ago, they'd all worried she'd die.

"Let's get this vaccine to the doctor," said Shepard. "Faster we do that, faster we can get into maintenance."

Ash was really beginning to hate Peak 15. So far, nothing had gone right, and they still hadn't found Benezia yet. She still wasn't sure if it had been a good idea leaving T'Soni behind or not. Would the asari have attacked if she'd been with Shepard? Hard to say.

They returned to Dr. Cohen and Shepard produced the phial of vaccine. The doctor made a grab for it but Shepard held it out of reach, frowning. "I need something in return," said Shepard. "Your key to the maintenance corridor."

"Are you – are you blackmailing me with the cure for these people?" demanded Dr. Cohen. "That's… That's morally reprehensible."

"Kind of like fabricating bioweapons, huh?" asked Shepard, and when the doctor could only splutter in response, she added, "Yeah, I thought so. Here." She handed him the vaccine and held out her hand, waiting. The doctor fished around in his lab coat before pulling out the pass and giving it to Shepard. She looked like she was about to say thank you, but instead shook her head and back out they went.

The maintenance corridor was filled with snow, and Ash couldn't help but wish she had a parka instead of her armour. While a parka wouldn't stop a bullet, it would at least keep her arms from freezing off. Shepard was totally nonplussed, as was Wrex, and Ash decided she no longer wanted to be on missions with the two of them if they were going to act like twins. Fraternal twins, mind you, with Shepard getting the looks and smarts and, well, pretty much everything of value, but still.

Together, they took out a few lingering rachni before proceeding into the back passage. Nobody said a word until Shepard stopped short in front of a door, breathing deeply.

"Benezia should be through here," she said, and Ash wanted to ask how she knew for sure but then Shepard turned around and the question died. "We know she had geth shipped to her, so expect some of those. From what I understand, asari matriarchs also have followers, so be prepared for some pretty insane displays of biotics. Wrex, I want you to cover Ash as much as possible."

"Hey," interrupted Ash, skin prickling with annoyance, "I can take care of myself. I don't need this hulking mountain to protect me." Her mind flashed back to a few hours prior when she'd spooked – slightly, barely – and Wrex had said, _It's probably just debris but don't worry, I'll protect you_. As if she were some little girl that needed help. Well, she hadn't needed it then and she didn't need it now.

"Careful," said Wrex, but despite the warning inherent in that one word, there was a flash of amusement in his eyes. Bastard. "You might hurt my feelings."

"Listen," snapped Shepard, "these aren't going to be your run of the mill asari in there. You've seen Liara's biotics, right? They're impressive, but she hasn't been trained to kill with them. The people beyond this door have. Stay behind Wrex and try not to get caught in their mass effect fields, okay?"

Ash grudgingly nodded.

"I suppose you realize that this means I'm going to be getting the brunt of the damage, right?" said Wrex to Shepard.

Shepard clapped him on the shoulder. "You're the Hercules of krogan, Wrex. I know you can handle it."

"You humans like to hear yourself speak, you know that?"

Ash was about to retort when Shepard moved forward, unclipping her pistol as she went. An asari came into view on a dais, wearing an outfit that practically screamed _villain_. She looked down on them, and there wasn't a hint of mercy in her eyes and Ash knew that this was Benezia.

"You do not know the privilege of being a mother. There is power in creation. To shape a life. To turn it towards happiness or despair," said Benezia. "Her children were meant to be ours. Raised to hunt and slay Saren's enemies."

Okay, someone was riding the crazy bus.

Shepard raised her gun and fired, but Benezia held up a barrier to protect herself, frowning. "Tell me Commander, have you faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have."

"Just one," said Shepard grimly.

The commandos and geth seemed to come out of nowhere, flinging mass effect fields left and right. Ash ducked behind a crate and Wrex stayed close to her, both of them firing with as much precision as their cramped quarters would allow. Shepard hesitated long enough for a few shots to ding off her shields before she crouched into cover as well. "Take out their barriers," she shouted. "Wrex, I'll set them up and then I need you to do a throw. You'll know when."

Shots echoed in Ash's ears as she ducked behind Wrex when a powerful warp got sent their way. The krogan grunted, but shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Then Shepard rolled out of cover and glowed blue, throwing her arms out. Ash peeked from behind her crate and saw a wobbling singularity hoist the enemy up into the air. Wrex pulled back his arm beside her, and every hair on Ash's body stood up as the scent of ozone filled the air. A loud crack echoed through the air and purple exploded where once the commandos had stood.

"With me," ordered Shepard, clambering up the stairs.

Benezia flung a container at Shepard using biotics, but Shepard countered with a barrier. The air was thick with ozone and it reminded Ash of that moment just before a thunderstorm, when the first streak of lightning plunged out of the sky and the first sonic boom cascaded in the distance and the wind picked up ever so slightly until you felt that at any moment, you would become weightless and float away.

Wrex surged into the fray, swatting Benezia so that she fell back against the railing. He raised his shotgun to shoot her, but Shepard placed her hand on his arm. He moved away with a snort, but kept his gun at the ready. Ash did too.

"This is not over," hissed Benezia. "Saren is unstoppable. My mind is filled with his light. Everything is clear."

"Is this indoctrination?" asked Ash, who could help but relate what Benezia was saying to all the old footage of cults.

"Yes," said Shepard, quietly.

"Can we shoot her yet?" asked Wrex.

Shepard crouched next to Benezia, whose breathing had become laboured. "I know part of you is still in there, Benezia."

"I will not betray him. You will – you…" Benezia brought trembling hands to her face and ducked her head, taking a shuddering breath. When she looked up, her eyes were bright. "You must listen. Saren still whispers in my mind. You…"

"I know," said Shepard, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I know about it all. The indoctrination. Saren. Soverign. That's not why I'm here."

Benezia swayed. "You want the location of the relay."

"Yes," said Shepard.

Reaching into her pocket, the asari matriarch pulled out an OSD and pushed it into Shepard's hands. "There's one thing," said Benezia, her hand grappling onto Shepard's. "Saren, he wanted my daughter, Liara."

"She's with me," said Shepard. "She's safe. I'll keep her safe. I promise."

A tear leaked out of Benezia's eye as she closed her eyes. "I'm so glad she's not here. I don't want her to see me this way. Could you… Could you tell her I'm sorry?"

Ash hadn't ever really liked T'Soni. It wasn't anything personal, but Ash had never really trusted how serendipitous her rescue on Therum had been. Right then, though, she resolved to… well, if not make friends, then at least to be friendly. It was a hard thing to lose a parent.

Shepard nodded. "I'm sorry too."

"For what?" asked Benezia.

The gunshot was quiet, and the exit was clean. Benezia's body slumped down. You would've thought she was sleeping, but for the purple leak out the side of her skull. Shepard stood up, staring down at the body. She nodded, once, to herself, then turned to the tank.

Ash was about to ask what she was doing when Benezia's body twitched and started to stand. She was ready to riddle the thing with holes when Shepard said, "Stand down."

"What the hell is going on, Shepard?" demanded Wrex.

"This one," said Benezia, which was crazy because nobody should talk with a bullet through their brain, "serves as our voice. We cannot sing. Not in these low spaces. Your musics are colourless."

And, as if this trip couldn't get any weirder, it turned out that the rachni queen in the tank was using Benezia's corpse to speak. Frankly, Ash would've flipped the kill switch on this thing immediately, but Shepard stared at it, blank faced, her hands gripping her upper arms. Ash couldn't tell what she was thinking, not even when the damned thing asked if it could be let go.

"There are acid tanks rigged up on that thing," barked Wrex. "Set them off. Millions of my ancestors died to put these things down. Don't let them come back."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I agree with Wrex," said Ash. "It's too dangerous to let them go, Commander. Last time they were loose, they almost destroyed the galaxy. With the Reapers coming, that sounds like the last thing we need, right?"

Shepard said nothing for a long time. She didn't move. Ash couldn't even tell if she was breathing. Finally, she dropped her head. "You two, head out to the tram station. I'll meet you there."

"Shepard…" said Ash.

"I need to talk to her," said Shepard. "Alone."

So she and Wrex trooped out of the room, though not without one glance back in Ash's case. Shepard was squatting in front of the tank, her hand against the glass, speaking so lowly that her words were obscured. The door hissed shut behind them, and the two were left standing awkwardly in silence, wondering what the hell Shepard was up to. What felt like forever later, the door opened and Shepard emerged, flexing her hands like they were cramped.

"It's done," she said as she barrelled past them.

"Did you kill her?" demanded Wrex.

Shepard paused mid-stride. "Yes."

"Good," said Ash, and her sense of relief was infinite. "Commander, I really think you made the right call. She was dangerous."

Silence was the reply as Shepard made her way towards the hot labs to dispose of the rest of the rachni brood. As they descended the elevator, Ash pretended not to notice the way Shepard's eyes shined.

**0-0-0**

The truth was, she was hanging on by a thread.

Shepard walked into the comm room and struggled to maintain her composure as everyone turned to look at her. These were faces she knew as well as her own – hell, better, probably – but right now she couldn't bear to look at any of them. She felt like she was drowning, and she struggled to keep her breathing under control as she took her place in her seat.

"So what's our next move, Commander? Head for the Mu Relay?" asked Ash.

"No," said Shepard, though she had to struggle to get out the word. "We've got another assignment from the Council. We're headed to Virmire. They sent a reconnaissance team there to investigate one of Saren's operations, but they haven't heard anything. They want us to look into it."

"If Sovereign really is a Reaper, shouldn't we be headed after it and Saren rather than wasting our time on anything else?" queried Garrus, leaning forward.

God, she'd forgotten. Garrus had never liked authority, not even at the end, but over the years, he'd learned to think tactically. This Garrus, he was so young. They were all so goddamned young. They were like ghosts of themselves. It hurt to look at him, at them, to hear his voice, their voices.

"If Saren is up to something, that means that Sovereign is coordinating it. That means it's trouble. The last thing we need is some surprise coming at us sideways. I'm going to request some additional backup from the Council, so hopefully it'll be a quick in and out mission."

_Like last time_? Her hands gripped at the sides of her chair and she struggled not to think about it. She'd built her career on doing the seemingly impossible, but Virmire had always loomed like her own personal demon. It was the one stunning example that no matter what anyone ever thought of her, she was human and fallible and people paid the price for her limitations. Even with the Reapers touching down on dozens of different worlds, she would often wake with those words echoing in her mind.

_I don't regret a thing_.

"Commander?"

Shepard shook her head and pulled herself back into her body. "Sorry. Drifted away for a second there. We'll be arriving on Virmire in forty-eight hours. Get some rest before then. Dismissed."

Liara stood and walked over, her every emotion so easy to read. This was not the stoic Shadow Broker from three years in the future. This was the awkward and adorable archaeologist who had first wormed her way into Shepard's affection.

"Are you all right, Shepard? Do you need to go see Doctor Chakwas?"

The irony of the whole situation nearly made Shepard laugh out loud. Three years ago – or, would that be _now_? – it had been Liara who was sent to Chakwas after debriefing, not the other way around. "I'm fine, but thank you. I need to discuss my report with the Council, so if I might have some privacy?"

Still, Liara hesitated, eyes on the ground. "Shepard… About my mother…"

Oh. That. Of course.

Shepard could still remember her own mother, and how much it had hurt to lose her. To this day, the smell of cinnamon and real books brought back memories of warm arms and gentle kisses and identical complaints of unmanageable hair. She knew, better than anyone, that Liara would never recover from this, that it would haunt her.

Back then, Shepard had taken her with, not knowing what they were wandering into. She'd watched Liara's face crumple, watched how Liara had clung to the body of her mother, watched the numbness set in as Liara washed Benezia's blood from her armour. Leaving her behind… that was meant to be an act of mercy, of kindness. Or, at least, that was what Shepard had told herself as she made the decision.

The truth was, she just couldn't bear to witness Liara help kill her own mother for a second time.

Shepard stood, and placed her hands on Liara's shoulders. "She told me to tell you that she loved you, and that she was sorry."

Tears gathered in the creases of Liara's eyes. "But… I thought you said… Indoctrination…"

"She fought it off temporarily," said Shepard, "but she couldn't do it for long. Her last thoughts were of you."

Watching Liara try to remain unemotional, comparing her with the hardened woman she had to become during the next three years, it broke Shepard's heart. "Did it hurt?"

"I made sure it didn't."

"Thank you," said Liara, and after a moment, she leaned in and pecked Shepard's cheek. Then she was gone.

Shepard could still remember how Liara died. That last run to get to the Citadel, to get to the Catalyst, to fire off the Crucible. She could still remember how she'd glanced back to make sure that Liara and Garrus were okay, and how the mako had eclipsed the light from behind, and how blue eyes had met brown and the knowledge that passed between them and the refrain of words from earlier…

_This is the end, isn't it?_

"Commander, the Council's on the line. Do you want me to patch them through?"

"Do it," said Shepard, "and then excuse yourself from the channel, Joker."

"Of course, ma'am. What do you think I am, some sort of creep?"

"I mean it," said Shepard, resting her hands on the railing.

The holograms of the Councillors shimmered into existence in front of her, and there was a moment of silence as they all regarded each other. Despite what she knew about the future, Shepard was well aware that these people – with the exception of Tevos – were nearly her enemies now. If her history was anything to go on (and it was becoming abundantly clear that _it was_), they weren't going to believe her any time soon. But they didn't have to, they just had to help her.

"We've received your report," said Tevos. "Is it true that you found rachni on Noveria?"

"Found them and wiped them out," spat Sparatus. "Do you take pleasure from committing genocide, Shepard?"

She hadn't planned on slamming her hands against the rail, but it was suddenly done and she was left raging. "And if I'd let them live, you'd be berating me for the risk I unleashed on the galaxy," snapped Shepard. "Listen, I made a tactical decision and it wasn't one I made lightly."

The choice hadn't been easy. She'd knelt in front of the rachni queen and she'd told the queen everything. Whether or not the queen had believed her was irrelevant. If she was going to wipe out the last member of a species, she at least wanted to explain herself. The rachni queen wasn't the problem. The problem was the Reapers, and the fact that, unless something drastic happened, there was a high probability that they would find the queen and use her to make Reaper ground forces. No rachni queen, no ravagers. No ravagers, fewer Reaper forces. Fewer Reapers forces, a better chance for everyone else.

It had come down to the hard line: was the harm done by rachni husks outweighed by the eventual good done by the rachni queen? Despite her best efforts, the answer had, unfortunately, been _no_.

So she'd hit the release on the acid tank and sat next to the tank while the queen screamed and died.

"We understand Shepard," said Tevos, before Sparatus could reply. "You were put in a difficult position and acted as you thought best."

There was no real praise there. Tevos kept her voice professionally neutral and her body stiff, but Shepard knew that it was likely as close as she'd ever get to gratification from any of the Council members, at least until the Reapers rolled into town and they were forced to confront the reality of the situation. Again.

"Thank you, Councillor," said Shepard.

"Then if there's nothing else," said Valern, clearing his throat.

"There is, actually," said Shepard, her heart a war drum in her ears. She stood up straight. "I am requesting additional assistance for the mission on Virmire."

"On what grounds?" asked Sparatus.

"On the grounds that Saren is growing himself a krogan army, and he's indoctrinating them as they emerge to follow his orders without question."

"And your source for this information?" inquired Valern, and upon seeing her flat look, added, "Ah. Yes. Your claim of foreknowledge."

"Captain Kirrahe's message was always for additional ground support – more than just the _Normandy_," said Shepard, licking her teeth. "There are geth and krogan swarming all over that place. We only just managed to blow it sky high last time, and that was with an improvised explosive and only seconds to spare. I'm living proof that things can change. What if we fail this time?"

Valern stilled. "You know of Captain Kirrahe?"

Irritation beat fists against the inside of Shepard's skull. "Councillor, with all due respect, can we all just assume, from now on, that I have lived this all before? If we have to debate about my origins every time I do a debriefing, we're going to waste a lot of time."

The Councillors all looked at each other and shared some silent communication that Shepard couldn't be bothered to try and work out. It was Tevos who said, "The reason we sent STG out there in the first place is that it's remarkably close to the Traverse. We can't risk openly sending our troops."

"Then send another STG squad," said Shepard.

"It takes time to establish a pretense for a ship entering that part of space," said Valern. "Your report says you're on your way to Virmire now. That's hardly enough forewarning."

The bottom plummeted out of the room, and Shepard struggled to remain standing. "So you're not going to help."

"Our hands are tied in this matter, Commander," said Tevos, even though what she really meant was _my hands are tied, Shepard_.

"I see," whispered Shepard. "If that's all, Councillors." She didn't wait to hear their reply before she disconnected.

The truth was, she couldn't decide if this was punishment or salvation.

She left the comm room slowly, as though her limbs were attached to balloons and might, at any moment, float away without her. She made her way down the steps, running her hand down the smooth planes of the wall, and trying not to remember how the heat had licked up against her armor during the Collector attack. One foot, then the other. She just needed to make it to her quarters. She just needed to be alone.

Kaidan was at his workstation. He glanced up with a smile and it was all Shepard could do to stop herself from losing the contents of her stomach. He was so _alive_. A surge of conflicted emotions threatened to wash her away. She remembered toeing the line between attraction and something more, the little dance they did with each other on the SR-1. And she remembered how the almost love story ended.

"Commander, you okay?" he asked, coming forward. His hand touched her arm, barely.

Her hands were trembling as she cupped his cheeks, eliciting a surprised puff of air from him. She wanted to memorize the planes of his face, the colour of his eyes, the one wisp of hair that wouldn't stay put. She'd nearly forgotten what he'd looked like, even with his ghost standing just behind her nearly the entire course of the war.

The truth was, she'd almost loved this man once, and she left him to die.

Peeling her hands away, she balled them into fists at her side. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," she said, though she wasn't sure if it was because she'd been overly personal or because she'd made that fateful choice three years ago. "You should go get some sleep."

"Shepard," he said, reaching out to her.

"Please," she said.

Kaidan dropped his arm and nodded. Shepard brushed past him and into her quarters, sealing the door behind her and falling back against it. When she opened her eyes, it was not the room she wanted to see. She couldn't lie and say that going back to military-grade accommodations after the SR-2, but that wasn't it. She had so few memories in this room, and so many in the other.

She dropped her body into a chair and ran her hands down her face. She wasn't acting like she should. From the slight hitches in behaviour from Wrex and Ashley while on Noveria, she knew she wasn't behaving like… like how she would've three years ago. Three years ago, she would've given everyone a fair chance, whether they deserved it or not. Three years ago, she believed that it was critically important that she adhere to her moral standard, even if nobody else would.

The truth was, the universe didn't give a flying fuck about morality.

It was something she still struggled with, though she knew it was true. Ironically, it had been Garrus who had taught her to look at the hard truths – the same Garrus who'd been on the receiving end of a lecture three years prior about the difference between good guys and bad guys. He'd never said anything about it, never recalled Dr. Saleon, but she knew he'd remembered, and she knew he'd struggled with making the hard choices with her words batting about him like flies that just wouldn't go away.

Shepard's eyes drifted towards her nightstand and she got up to squat in front of it. She pulled a box from the bottom shelf and lifted the lid. Inside were the remnants of old books, badly burned and yellowing from age. Some of the covers were missing. They'd belonged to her mother, and they were the only thing Shepard had ever recovered from Mindoir. She'd mourned them badly when the SR-1 was blown out of the sky, and their death had been a truer than her own, in some ways.

She ran her fingers over the pages before replacing the box and putting it back. Standing, she realized there was only one person in the whole world she wanted to talk to.

Everything was quiet on the lower decks. Ash and Kaidan had retreated to sleep. Liara was probably staring at the ceiling in the medbay. Wrex was propped up against the lockers, snoring away.

Garrus was awake, tinkering with the mako. Of course.

"Hey," she said in greeting, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He startled slightly – something he did very infrequently in the future – and turned. Shepard had to bite her lip and turn her eyes to the ground to stop herself from giving him the same treatment she'd given Kaidan earlier. It was different with Garrus though. While she'd nearly forgotten the intricacies of Kaidan's face, she'd spent so much time studying Garrus' that seeing him without his scars, without the weariness in his eyes was… weird.

"Shepard," he said with a nod. "Something I can do for you?"

"Doing some calibrations on the mako?" she queried with a grin.

"Yeah," he said, "you really busted her up during your last mission." Garrus gave her a meaningful look. "Heavy stuff, down there."

"Yeah," said Shepard, running a hand over her annoyingly short hair. "It's only going to get worse." She put her back to the mako and dropped down until she was seated, hugging one leg to her body while stretching the other out.

"You, uh, you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Shepard turned her face up to him. "Tell me something about yourself, Garrus."

"About me?" he asked, blinking.

"About your childhood or something. I need to… I need to be distracted from my own thoughts for a while. Tell me whatever."

Garrus shuffled awkwardly. "Well, I was born on Palaven…"

As he gave her a summary from his childhood, it dawned on Shepard that she'd heard most of them before. Only, rather than a litany of details, there had been stories, shared as they traced faint scars over their bodies, swapping story for story. How Garrus had played a prank on his sister, Solana, and she'd thrown a metal figurine at him hard enough to cut. How Shepard had been playing hopscotch as a girl – a game Garrus had decided was not only boring, but pointless – and had misjudged her last hop, sliding on gravel and splitting her lip wide open. How Garrus hadn't been properly prepared to shoot his first sniper rifle, and the kickback had caught him in the face.

The truth was, his awkward conversation was like a knife in her heart.

If this had been in the future, if this had been _her_ Garrus, she would've wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest and cried while he held her. He would've made adorable attempts to soothe her, while nuzzling her hair with his face, his body thrumming with the vibrations of his sub-vocals. Probably, they both would've shed their clothing and curled together, for sex or sleep, spending the night together regardless of which.

Only, this man in front of her had never done any of those things. Not yet.

_Always_.

* * *

_And... things become complicated. _

_This chapter was a bitch to write. No real idea why. I think the next few should go easier. _

_Hope you enjoyed! _


	7. Seven

Our doubts are traitors,

And make us lose the good we oft might win,

By fearing to attempt.

**William Shakespeare, **_**Measure for Measure**_

Something wasn't right with Shepard.

Intellectually, Garrus knew that it very likely had something to do with the Prothean beacon and the physical and emotional trauma she'd been under recently, but somehow that did little to assuage the itch in his bones. There was something off with her, and it was something deeper than exhaustion or sickness. He'd spent a lot of time in C-Sec interrogating people, and he'd learned to read people of all races fairly well. In his time on the _Normandy_, he'd gotten a feel for Shepard – for how she worked, and her perspective, and the way she interacted with people. He hadn't always agreed with her, but he did respect her.

The respect wasn't gone, but it was bobbing in an ever deepening sea of suspicion.

Garrus asked himself it had anything to do with the fact that Sparatus had tasked him with spying on the Commander, and truthfully, he wasn't sure. Maybe he was just now picking up on things that had always been there. Maybe he'd been too preoccupied with Saren before now to give her the scrutiny she deserved. But he didn't think so.

So far, it was a bunch of little things. She'd come down to the hangar to speak with him, to ask him about his childhood. While they hadn't been strictly professional with each other prior to that point, she'd asked him about it like it was the most natural thing in the world. That was strange, but it was what came after that had really shaken him. Huddled next to the Mako, Shepard had buried her face in her knees and when she looked up, half an hour later, her eyes were red from crying. Garrus had awkwardly asked what was the matter, and she'd mumbled something about ghosts and retreated to her room.

It was now sixteen hours later, and nobody had seen her since. A few of them had remarked on her sudden shift in demeanor in the mess.

"You should've seen her," Williams had said. "She was this powerhouse. Contained, precise, but deadly. I'd almost say ruthless, except you could see that it cost her." She paused, turning to Kaidan and Liara. "Did you two know she could do a shockwave thing?"

"A shockwave?" asked Kaidan with a frown. "Wow, that's pretty advanced stuff. The raw power required for that…"

"The Commander is a powerful biotic," agreed Liara, but there was some hesitancy in her voice, "but I had no idea she had that much ability. We were discussing shockwaves while I was attempting to teach her about singularities."

"Singularities?" asked Williams. "You mean those mini black holes? She pulled off one of those too."

Garrus had taken careful note of the raw surprise on Liara's face, before her frown set in. Though she didn't continue the conversation, the asari was definitely thinking deeply about the whole thing. He'd seen her and the Commander hashing out their biotic abilities in the hangar bay before Feros. Shepard had only managed the barest hint of a singularity – enough to distort the space, but far from enough to manifest the gravitational pull – and that had been just prior to her admittance into the hospital. There hadn't been enough time for her to master an ability of that calibre, never mind an entirely new ability as well.

And though he had no reason to connect the two things, not really, Garrus couldn't help but recall the biotic detonation on the Presidium. Liara had postulated that Saren might be researching a way to amplify biotic abilities, though when he'd pressed Shepard for information, she'd stonewalled him. The link was shaky at best, but Garrus hadn't come this far by ignoring his instincts.

But even if there were a connection, how would that translate to Shepard herself? She'd been in the hospital at the time of the incident, and couldn't have been anywhere near the area. The only logical conclusion, then, was that the Alliance had harnessed… whatever it was, and used it on Shepard. Maybe it even had something to do with her rapid recovery.

The tide on that sea of suspicion was coming in, and it left Garrus conflicted. He trusted Shepard, he did, but there was just… something.

He retreated behind the mako on the pretense of work, but drew up his omni-tool instead. Williams was sleeping, as was Wrex, and the hangar was devoid of anyone else. It was now or never.

Garrus dialed the contact information into his omni-tool and waited. The vid screen flared into life, and he was suddenly face to face with the Councillor.

"Vakarian," said Sparatus, "I heard from Pallin that you were diligent, but I'll admit that I wasn't planning on hearing from you so soon. I take it you have news?"

Swallowing, Garrus tried to ignore the fluttering of his heart. "You told me to contact you if I had any reason to suspect that Shepard was a threat. I – I don't think she is, not really, but I do think that she might be a pawn in something bigger."

Millions of lightyears away, Sparatus leaned back in his chair. "Go on."

Over the span of the next few minutes, Garrus hurried to tell the Councillor nearly everything – from the biotic detonation on the Citadel, to the fact that Shepard wouldn't tell him what they found, to her speedy recovery, to her advanced biotic abilities. Sparatus' face remained a closed book, and Garrus couldn't tell if anything he found anything he heard at all surprising.

"It is troubling," said Sparatus absently, "to think that the Alliance is keeping secrets from us."

"Sir, with all due respect, I have no concrete evidence," said Garrus, though even as he said it, his mind flashed towards the omni-tool in Tali's possession. By rights, he should tell the Councillor about it; withholding this information could come back to bite him in the ass later on. The same intuition that told him there was a connection between Shepard's changed behaviour and the incident on the Citadel, however, told him to keep his mouth shut.

"That is problematic," said Sparatus. "Keep searching. There's bound to be something there."

"Yes, sir," said Garrus and he closed the vid as the screen went dark. He ran a hand over his fringe and exited from behind the mako, nearly running into Williams in the process. Starting, he took in her flat expression and crossed arms.

"Working on the mako?" she asked, but Garrus had questioned enough suspects to know an interrogation when he heard one.

"Yeah," he lied, "the undercarriage got a little dinged on Noveria. I was hoping to have it patched up before we hit Virmire."

"Uh huh," said Williams, cocking a hip. She looked him up and down. "Listen, Garrus, you've proven yourself on missions, and Shepard seems to take a real shine to you – and both of those things count for a lot, in my books." She took a step forward, tilting her face up towards his. "So I'm going to ignore what little of that I heard – for now – because I know that you'd never betray this crew, right?"

How did this human woman manage to make his throat go dry? "Trust me, Chief, I'm just trying to stop Saren."

"Good enough," she said, relaxing her posture only slightly. "For now."

Williams retreated to her side of the hangar, but not before sending one last frown in his direction. Gathering his tools, Garrus slid under the mako, completely aware that he'd have to be more careful from now on.

**0-0-0**

Karin still wasn't used to the idea that Dee had taken the place of Commander Shepard. It simply implied too much – that Dee knew what was going to happen, that she was at once the same and not the same, and that, worst of all, if she proved herself to be any sort of enemy, Karin herself was ordered to go from doctor to assassin.

Many people had died on Karin's table, but none had died by her hand. The prospect was not a pleasant one, and it was why she held off checking on Dee for the first few days. The woman hadn't even come into the medbay following Noveria, and rather than being an attentive medical professional, Karin had allowed it. There was a moral implication there that was hard to swallow; this woman was not Karin's Commander Shepard, and so the doctor seemed more content to let routine checkups pass. What did that mean? Was this new Shepard's life somehow worth less than the old?

_No_, she told herself as she patched up a slight graze on Ashley's arm. _No_, she reaffirmed as she ate her meal and listened to the crew discuss the latest mission. _No_, she repeated as she went over her inventory and jotted down notes for the procurement officer.

But for all the _no_s, her mind kept wandering back to Shepard's body in that morgue, and through her mind rang: _it's not fair_.

Karin took a deep breath outside the door to the Captain's quarters before giving it a knock. There was a long pause from within, before the doors slid open and there was the new Commander, clothes dishevelled and dark circles slung beneath her eyes. She blinked at the doctor, running a hand over her shaven head.

"Doctor Chakwas," she said, "can I help you?"

"May I come in, Commander?" asked Karin.

Dee moved aside to allow entry, and Karin brushed past her, taking note of the datapads littering the table and desks, of the empty protein rations, and of the dishevelled bed. Never once during the course of their mission to find Saren had the Commander's quarters been anything less than immaculate. Sure, the datapads could be excused, but the rest…

"Is everything all right, Dee?" said Karin, turning. "You look utterly exhausted."

"It's been a trying few weeks," said Dee, lumbering back to the table and throwing herself into a chair. She leaned forward over the datapads, taking a deep breath. "No. That's a lie. It's been a hellish few months."

Whenever the topic came up, Karin couldn't stop the hair on the back of her head from standing up. Shepard had always been totally open with the crew about what they were facing, but the prospect of Reapers, while frightening, had been something intangible. Karin had simply assumed that once Saren was stopped, the Reapers would not be able to return and Shepard would have saved them all. Looking at the woman in front of her, the grim reality of their future became more and more palpable. Dee had lived through hell, and it showed.

Suddenly, Karin felt childish and reckless. She should've checked up on Dee before now. There were bigger things than her own awkwardness to worry about.

"How are you sleeping?" she asked.

"Sleep?" Shepard snorted. "What's sleep?"

"I could give you a sedative if you're having trouble, Commander," said Karin.

Dee shook her head. "Wouldn't help. My upgrades mean I burn through sedatives faster than most. Unless you're planning on using a potent tranquilizer, I'd be awake in a few hours, tops."

Karin edged forward and took a seat at the table, licking her lips. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Those brown eyes darted up, once, before plastering themselves to the table. "What's there to say, Karin? I'm wandering around a ship that I watched being destroyed, with a lot of people I saw die, completing a mission for the second time. I can't tell if they're the ghosts, or I am." She shook her head and then dropped it into her hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all of this."

That, right there, was a moment of kindness, a moment of the Shepard Karin knew. As much as she didn't want to hear, Karin said, "Was it very terrible, then?"

"Yes," said Shepard, and her voice hitched at the end. She dropped her arms and crossed them, regarding her datapads as though they were the enemy. "Picture your worst nightmare, throw in all the worst wars in galactic history, and you don't even come close."

Karin tried, really. She'd seen enough battles to know what wounded soldiers looked like, sounded like, smelled like. She'd been on enough crews to know how badly missions could go. She could remember how, when Dee first woke up, she said the Citadel had been destroyed, and how such a thing seemed impossible. The Reapers were coming, and Karin found that she had no idea what that meant at all.

"I think you may be suffering from PTSD, Commander," she said quietly. "I'm no psychiatrist, but I do have several medications on board that might help alleviate the symptoms…"

"No," said Dee, standing. She laid her hands flat on the table. "For one, we don't know if they'll work with my upgrades. For second, I can't be screwing with my brain chemistry while I'm trying to stop a goddamned invasion. I've managed to compartmentalize my emotions thus far. I'll just have to be better at it."

What Karin had to say, she really didn't want to say. She folded her hands together in her lap and stared at them. "The crew is starting to notice you're not yourself."

Dee sighed. "I knew they would."

"You never used to sequester yourself."

"No," agreed Dee, "I didn't."

"Liara is taking it especially hard, I think," said Karin, and after some hesitation, added, "and I think Kaidan is worried."

There was no missing the way that Dee flinched. Her arms crawled around her middle. "I don't know what to do about that. It's hard to even look at them."

"And me?" asked Karin.

"You're worst of all," said Dee. "Or at least the worst on the ship. Anderson is worst of all. I can see it on your faces, you know, the distrust. The fear. Sometimes, when you don't think I'm looking, there's even this glimmer of hate, because I'm not the woman I used to be." She shrugged. "I'm used to suspicion. My record was hardly squeaky clean by the end, and I had more than one friend question my decisions but… You always trusted me, Karin, and I always tried to live up to that trust."

Karin's heart trembled, literally and figuratively. She considered for the first time what an impossibly lonely job Shepard had given her counterpart. Dee was completely alone in her knowledge of the future, working on an agenda that nobody could yet understand. There had been a few murmurs among the crew that perhaps her brain trauma had caused some sort of neurological problem that would account for her changed personality, especially following the genocide of the rachni. If the suspicions persisted, Karin might even volunteer this as the official explanation.

"Is that what you're doing now?" asked Karin gently, gesturing to the datapads.

Dee pulled a face. "Omni-tools have come a long way in three years. Most of the files on my personal tool were not only encrypted so that they'd be difficult to read on other tools, but were also in a file format that hasn't been fully developed yet and is, handily, not backwards compatible. I'm trying to recreate all my knowledge from memory so I can develop a timeline and a more concrete long term strategy."

"Is this the part where I excuse myself so that you can continue?"

"Please," said Dee.

Karin stood, lingering. "Try to take care of yourself, Dee. I'm not – you may not be… You're the only Shepard we've got right now, and if what you say is true, we need you."

"Yeah," said Dee, voice hoarse, "of course."

"And… if you need to talk about anything, you let me know."

"I will," said Dee, and it sounded like a lie.

And to her everlasting shame, Karin was hugely relieved as she left the Commander's quarters, knowing that she would never be subjected to the horror that awaited her. In med school, some of her peers had gone to get their palms read – a lot of mumbo jumbo, if you asked Karin – but she'd refused to go along. _Knowing what happens before it does takes all the fun out of life_, she'd said then, feeling very wise despite being so very young. Now, though, she could only reflect back on those words and ruminate on just how true they were.

**0-0-0**

Anderson didn't want any part of this. He tried to make that plain to Hackett, but his old friend refused to listen. If threat of court martial had been a little less genuine, Anderson might even have made a scene, refused, thrown a punch. Of course, if he did that and Hackett followed through with disciplinary action, there'd be nobody left to speak for Shepard – the _real_ Shepard.

He was not a political animal. He never had been. It was one of the many reasons why, despite being only a few years older, Hackett was of a superior rank. Anderson had no time for people's bullshit, and even less patience when pretending he did – especially when it involved family. And, heaven help him, Shepard was family. _Was_ being the operative word.

But Hackett was reluctant to let Udina act alone on their behalf, and so here he was.

"I'm afraid I'm confused," said Councillor Tevos. "What is it that you're asking?"

"Suggesting," corrected Udina. "And we're not. I'm merely passing a message along."

"The message being that we should dispose of the evidence that may be key in the prosecution of this Shepard double in the future," said Sparatus.

"I was not aware that she'd committed any crime that required prosecution," said Udina, and Anderson could feel the man's invisible hackles rising.

"So she has not told you of her decision to commit genocide against an entire race?" demanded Sparatus.

"It was my understanding that Spectres work with impunity," said Udina, stepping forward. "Or have the rules changed in the last few weeks?"

Behind his back, Anderson clasped his hands together. Patient B or Shepard or whatever the hell she was calling herself had forwarded the mission reports to Hackett and Anderson, who had reviewed them in stony silence.

"Shepard would never have done this," Anderson had said, throwing the datapad onto the desk.

"We all do terrible things in war," said Hackett without looking up.

Anderson resisted the urge to grind his teeth. "We're not at war."

"Are you sure?" said Hackett.

The truth was, he wasn't sure. It seemed as though enemies were encroaching from all sides, and Anderson was left with huge blind spot that Shepard used to fill. Now, this new replacement was a total mystery, and despite the fact that Hackett seemed to trust her implicitly, and despite the fact that she seemed to have her act perfected, Anderson couldn't shake the feeling that there were things that they weren't being told.

A small part told him that this was probably for the best because, if what she said was true, there were no happy endings for anybody. He'd been pushing that thought away with plenty of alcohol recently.

Anderson wasn't sure if he hated this Shepard anymore. It was hard – not impossible, but hard – to hate someone so obviously broken. That she was emotionally troubled didn't bother Anderson. What bothered him was how she ended up that way, and what she was going to do now that she'd been handed the keys to the kingdom, so to speak.

"But she is _not _ a proper Spectre," said Valern, looking grave. "While she may look like Commander Shepard, speak like Commander Shepard, act like Commander Shepard, and while the biological evidence is extremely persuasive, the fact remains that she is a wild card. We have no idea how to predict how she'll act."

"We didn't predict, for instance, that she'd destroy an entire race," added Sparatus.

Udina leaned forward, his hands clasping the rail in front of him and his face blazing. "But was it not this Council that ordered the extermination of the Council hundreds of years ago. I would think that she - whoever _she_ happens to be – did you all a favour."

There was a moment when the entire room relearned how to breathe. Hackett bore the shock with a calm face, utterly unflappable.

"You…!" said Sparatus, and Anderson hadn't seen a turian look so murderous since the First Contact War.

"You are correct," interrupted Tevos suddenly. "It was our predecessors that demanded the rachni be destroyed. If we were to prosecute Shepard for her part in the destruction of the queen, we'd have to first look at ourselves." She took a deep breath. "But that is not the matter at hand, is it?"

"No," said Anderson, earning a dark look from Udina. "The woman formerly known as Patient B has requested that Commander Shepard's body be cremated."

Tevos nodded, slicing her hand to stop Sparatus' temper from flaring. Those cool brown eyes slid to Anderson, and the weight of all her years settled uncomfortably on his shoulders. "And you, Captain? What do you think?"

"I think she's dangerous," said Anderson honestly, "though I don't know to whom. On one hand, it's a risk to follow this suggestion, because Shepard's – Shepard's body is the only tangible evidence we have that there were ever two of them. Whatever files we have could, under certain circumstances, be compromised." He took a deep breath. "On the other hand, she seemed concerned that someone could get a hold of the body. If that were to happen, we could find ourselves assaulted on all sides, especially if those who took the body had a different agenda from Patient B herself. Confidence in the Council and the Alliance could both be undermined if this whole fiasco were made public."

Tevos nodded again, and Anderson felt like he was back in school, getting approval from his primary school teacher. "What we need, then, is a compromise."

"And I suppose you have a suggestion?" inquired Valern, cupping his chin. His large eyes studied Tevos, and Anderson couldn't help but postulate that this Patient B business had divided the Council more than they let on.

"I do," said Tevos. "We keep tissue samples, blood samples, the like. Not enough to be viable for cloning, but enough to keep secure in the archives for analysis should it be required. The rest, we burn. The last thing we need is Shepard's body being used against us by some unknown faction."

"And besides the tissue samples, her ashes will be returned to the Alliance, will they not?" asked Anderson.

Tevos softened, though one could only see it if one were paying attention. "Of course, Captain. You may do with them as you wish, though it should be plain that you will not be able to conduct any official or public ceremony. This must remain highly classified."

Unable to find his voice, Anderson simply nodded.

"Then you are dismissed," said Tevos, and that was that.

Udina, to his credit, held his disgust in check until they had vacated the premises. "I cannot believe the mess you've made," hissed the Ambassador as they exited to the hall. "Letting that charlatan run away with an Alliance prototype – this has all the makings of a scandal, just you watch. And who will end up taking the blame? It won't be the Council, that's for sure."

"None of this was my idea," said Anderson, but it lacked bite.

With a grunt as answer, Udina stalked away, leaving Anderson to wonder if it was too early in the day for another drink.

**0-0-0**

Tali was having an out-and-out brawl with this omni-tool _boshtet_, and she was pretty sure she was losing. While she'd managed to get the modems in place, and had wired the whole thing up, the fabricator was refusing to work, meaning the omni-tool's sole fuction was as little more than an ugly paperweight. Her circuits were closed, her components were properly soldered, everything else was in place, so it had to be the software.

On a whim, she attempted to interface her Nexus with the offending tool. Three seconds later, error messages were beeping from her vid screen, and she was left no closer to her goal than before. The way she saw it, there were two options. First, whatever data was on the components brought to her by Garrus was so degraded by, well, whatever had happened on the Presidium that the software was unusable. Second, whatever software was on this tool – Tali hadn't thought up a name that commanded enough respect yet, though she was working on it – was incompatible with either her Nexus, or the components she'd gotten on the Citadel, or both.

Knowing Tali's luck, it was all of these things combined.

Needless to say, she was not enthused when Garrus came looking for her, finding her tucked away in a dark corner of the engine room long after Engineer Adams had gone to get some sleep.

"Anything yet?" he asked, leaning against the wall. Tali was still learning the ins and outs of alien body language – it was all so subtle! How could they read each other so easily? – but she was certain that he looked concerned.

Which, honestly, wasn't all that surprising. He'd been doing a lot of that lately.

"No," she said. "Turns out that rebuilding an advanced omni-tool of unknown origin is more difficult than it seems." Tali huffed. "Don't count me out yet, though. If I can salvage bits from those geth Shepard took out a few weeks ago, what's one measly tool?"

She waited for him to add some encouragement, but he didn't. He said, "I really need to know what's on that tool."

And because she'd been working with teeny, tiny components that most people couldn't identify never mind assemble, and because even though she was _sure_ she was doing everything right, the stupid tool wouldn't work, she jumped to her feet and shoved the offending item into his arms. "Then you figure it out!"

She didn't realize how hard she was breathing until her suit pinged it and started filtering extra oxygen. Garrus took a step forward and clasped her shoulder, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, Tali. I know you're doing your best, but… This is important. I know it is."

"What exactly are you hoping to find?" asked Tali.

Garrus hesitated then, pulling back his hand and turning the tool over and over. "Have you noticed Shepard acting a little odd?"

How could she not? She may not have spent much time around aliens before her pilgrimage – okay, _any_ time around aliens – but only someone without eyes and ears would think that Shepard had left that hospital the same way she went in. Tali, much to her chagrin, was beginning to, maybe, think that the Councillor was right to ask her to spy on the Commander. Though Shepard seemed to be healthy enough, she was no longer eating her meals in the common area, or talking to them all after missions, or making jokes at their expense, or smiling at all. Though she hadn't known Shepard for long, Tali missed her – the _old _her. That Shepard made their victory seem inevitable. This Shepard… this Shepard looked at them like they were already dead and just didn't know it yet.

Tali shivered. "She's been… distant since she got back, hasn't she?"

"That's one word for it," said Garrus. "I think that this omni-tool could help tell us why."

Frowning, Tali said, "You think her behavior has something to do with that thing on the Presidium?"

"I think it might."

Well, that was a possibility that Tali hadn't considered, but then again, she wasn't the ex C-sec officer either. Shepard had said in the hospital, what felt like a million years ago, that the Council was investigating, and Tali wondered if she could use her new connection with the Councillor to drum up some information about the omni-tool. If he knew something, and could share, she might be able to get the thing operational…

"Which is why," continued Garrus, "I need you to find out what's on here. If we know that, we might be able to help Shepard."

She might've been young, but she wasn't stupid. Tali knew that he was referring to more than just Shepard's emotional well-being. If they could find out what the connection was, it might be an advantage against Saren – one they could use to stop him and Sovereign from bringing back the other Reapers. More than that, though, Tali could use it to prove to the salarian Councillor that Shepard was fine, really fine, and just reeling from her encounter with the beacon.

Her first report had been sent shortly after Noveria, using the unnamed extranet account and the cypher the salarians had given her. She'd done it with no little sense of guilt, discussing how Shepard was behaving differently and how she'd killed the rachni queen (a thing Tali still couldn't believe or condone), but she'd done it for the betterment of her people. For centuries, the quarians had been punished over a mistake. They knew, better than anyone, that creating the geth had been a huge lapse in judgement. They'd lost not only their home world, but their embassy, and even their ability to touch another person. If she had a chance to give her people back even some of what they'd lost, she had to try.

Tali just wished it didn't feel like such a betrayal.

With gentle fingers, she reclaimed the omni-tool. "I have a few other things I can try, though I may need to ask Kaidan for a second opinion."

Garrus shook his head. "I would try to avoid that, if possible."

Now she was concerned. "Why?"

The turian started to pace. "For one, he's in love with Shepard. I didn't make it as far as I did in C-Sec – which, admittedly, wasn't all that far, but I didn't do it by being unobservant." Garrus sighed. "He's in love with her, and I'm not sure where his loyalty lies."

"With Shepard, surely," objected Tali.

"And if Shepard is no longer herself?" said Garrus, his shoulders dropping. "We have no idea what the Alliance did to her to get her back in the field, or how the beacon has impacted her mental stability. Judging by the evidence, probably not well."

"What does this have to do with Kaidan?" asked Tali, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Garrus hesitated. "Shepard is his CO, Tali, and from what I can tell, Kaidan is Alliance through and through. If he found out what we were doing, that we were probing into information we'd been told not to, he might tell Shepard."

And Shepard would take away the omni-tool. No, Tali corrected herself, more than that. Shepard's trust might be lost forever, which could mean… Well, besides the fact that her friendship with Shepard was turning out to be one of the most important of her life, it would mean that Tali might even get expelled from the _Normandy_, and all of her pilgrimage dreams would be shattered.

So, swallowing, she nodded. "Okay. I'll just try to… I'll get it myself, then."

"If I'd realized how this was going to play out," said Garrus quietly, and his thoughts appeared to be following a similarly dark path, "I probably wouldn't have asked you to be a part of it."

Tali scoffed. "And you would've reconstructed the infuriating omni-tool yourself? Please."

His face lightened. "Oh, you don't think I could do it?"

Squaring her shoulders defiantly, she said, "Of course not! An omni-tool is not a mako. Tools require delicate hands, not beatings with large instruments."

"I don't beat anything!" huffed Garrus.

"Oh?" said Tali. "Could've fooled me. I can hear you banging away in here some days – and while the _Normandy _might be a quiet ship, I can assure you that it's not _that_ quiet."

"How about this – next time I'm working on the mako, you stop by and I can show you what I'm really doing?"

"Why would I care about that?" asked Tali.

Garrus was very nearly offended. "What if you ever need to repair a mako?"

"Yes, because that's a skill that's desperately required within the Migrant Fleet," said Tali, rolling her eyes.

"Well," said Garrus slowly, "if your people ever get a planet, you're going to need new vehicles."

"I doubt we'll start with tanks."

"What if there are klixen on the planet?" demanded Garrus. "You wouldn't want those little bastards getting near your delicate envirosuits, would you?"

Despite herself, Tali found she was smiling. Hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, Garrus had been telling her that the quarians deserved everything they were getting for creating AI in the first place. The comment had stung, though the sentiment had become increasingly familiar, and it had stung more because Garrus was a part of her crew, and among the quarians, that meant family. Now? Now, they might not be family, but they were friends – and that was all because of Shepard.

"Will doing this… will anything happen to Shepard?" she asked.

Garrus thought it over. "I hope not. I'm going to do everything I can to keep her safe, I promise. She's still Shepard, after all. No matter how she's acting, she's still the same person."

And for some reason, even though the thermal readings in her suit were normal, Tali suddenly got a chill.

**0-0-0**

Kaidan hadn't always been a worrier. According to his mom, he was one of the calmest babies she'd ever met. Of course, that didn't mean he never had his share of temper tantrums, but overall, he didn't let things get him down. He'd spent his childhood blissfully oblivious to the dark realities that surrounded him.

Then Jump Zero happened. And Rahna. And Vyrnnus.

It would be a lie to say that he didn't sometimes find himself thinking about how his life would've been different had he been born without biotic abilities. Would he have even joined the Alliance? Maybe, maybe not. And it would be a lie to say that this train of thought, more recently, didn't always led him back to Shepard. Was she worth the pain he'd endured as a teenager? Every time he'd caught one of those secret smiles, the answer inched closer to _yes._

But those smiles were missing, now. Had she even smiled since she got back on board the ship? Kaidan honestly couldn't say, but he didn't think so.

He was retrieving a protein bar from the common area when he saw the light of an omni-tool at the end of the hall near the sleeping pods. The pods themselves were mostly empty, but those within were subjected to a chemical cocktail that would leave them sleeping deeply for hours, dead to the world. At first, Kaidan though it was Tali – the girl had this adorable habit of curling up in the crooks and crannies of the ship and falling asleep – but upon closer inspection, he saw that it was Shepard, and that whatever she was doing, she hadn't yet noticed him.

_All right Alenko_, he told himself, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He'd been wanting to tell Shepard all the things he hadn't told anyone, but she hadn't come to talk to him and that one time in her cabin had been strained and awkward. Now was the time. If he waited any longer, chances were he'd either talk himself out of it, or the galaxy would get more complicated than it already was.

As he approached, he noticed that she was sitting cross-legged and that she was using her omni-tool to read the book that sat in her lap. Shepard didn't seem to notice him until he was about two meters away, and he couldn't help but feel a jab of discomfort as she pulled her knees up.

"Commander," he said, "may I join you?"

Shepard stared at him a touch too long before nodding, scooting over so he had room to sit next to her.

"It's been a hell of a few weeks," Kaidan ventured.

"You have no idea," whispered Shepard, closing her book and setting it off to the side. She folded her arms over her knees and dropped her head on top, turning her face to him. What little light there was caught the curves of her face, and Kaidan had to clear his throat and bite into his protein bar to distract himself.

"You seem worried," he ventured, then berated himself because of _course_ she was.

"That obvious, huh?" she said.

"Is this about the beacon? About what you were worried about in the hospital?"

Her attention zeroed in on him. "What did I tell you in the hospital?"

Kaidan swallowed, collecting his thoughts. Did she not remember their last meeting together before she had her seizure? That would make sense, he supposed, though he was far from an expert on such thigs. "That you were worried you wouldn't be yourself from now on," he said. "That the beacon and everything would change who you were."

Shepard's eyes were suddenly bright, and she turned her face forward. "And what did you say?"

"I said that only your experiences and how you handle them make a person, and that no matter what, you'd always be the commander who pushed away a lieutenant from a dangerous beacon."

"And now? Do you still believe that I'm the same person? Even after Noveria?" Shepard kept her words even and remarkably free from bias, but there was something brittle about them, as though they would shatter if Kaidan leaned on them too hard.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've just found out that we have a Reaper in the galaxy already, Shepard. I don't blame you for making the hard calls. I could sit here and tell you that you made the wrong call, but when it comes down to it, I don't know that for sure. Nobody does. You do the best with what you're given – you always have."

"You," started Shepard, and swallowed whatever came next. "That means a lot to me, Kaidan. More than I can probably express. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. They sat in a companionable silence for a space, before Kaidan tentatively turned to her. "Shepard, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"Oh?" said Shepard, turning towards him and looking… afraid?

"Do you remember how I started telling you about Jump Zero?" he asked. Shepard frowned, but nodded. With a deep breath, Kaidan launched into his story. He told her about being taken from his family, about how he later found out that Conatix had tried to promote fear amongst the families of the students and how his family had, thankfully, never listened. He told her about the strict regimens, and about how he'd fallen in love with Rahna, and how one day she'd reached for a glass of water with her hand instead of her biotics. He told her about Vyrnnus and how he'd broken Rahna's arm and how, in a fit of fury, Kaidan had hit him with a biotic kick and killed him.

He ended the story with his arms draped over his knees, staring at the ceiling. Kaidan wasn't sure he wanted to look at Shepard. He could still remember the expressions on his parents' faces when he returned home from Jump Zero – the pity plastered on top of the fear – and the way they'd been entirely too comforting. That first night had been the worst, and he'd lain in bed, listening to them wonder what sort of person their son had grown into while he'd been hundreds of lightyears away.

A hand covered his and squeezed. Kaidan finally looked to Shepard and was surprised to find her crying, her face turned aside like she was ashamed.

"Hey," he said, moving closer to her, "hey, it's okay. It was a long time ago. You don't need to cry for me, Shepard."

"I killed someone too," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I killed someone on Mindoir."

Kaidan's mouth got very dry. "During the… When the batarians came?"

Shepard nodded and Kaidan was faced with the grim realization that however much he might care for Shepard, however close he was to falling in love with her for real (if he hadn't already), he really knew nothing about her at all. For instance, he'd never seen her cry before. Not when Jenkins died, not when her nightmares had become increasingly violent, not when she was saddled in a hospital bed with desperate odds. Yet here she was, weeping, over some old ghost he would never have known existed.

"It was the first time I ever used my biotics," she said, answering a question he couldn't voice. Shepard licked her lips and turned her body around to face him. "Thank you for telling me, Kaidan. I can't imagine you share this with a lot of people. But you don't have to worry about my opinion of you. You're a good man. I know it – I've always known it."

Kaidan reached to wipe away a tear from her cheek, but Shepard started as if she'd been burned, jumping up with her arms closing around her book. Kaidan clambered to his feet.

"Shepard," he said, "Commander, I'm sorry. That was way beyond protocol."

"No, it's not – you didn't," said Shepard, shaking her head. "I just… I just _can't_."

Licking his lips, he said, "Have I done something wrong, Shepard? I thought…"

"You've never done anything to disappoint or offend me," Shepard assured him, but still she inched away. "It's just that… Things are complicated right now. More complicated than you realize. I'm – I can't be who I used to be. There's a war coming, and I have to be ready."

Something about how the last was said made all the hairs on Kaidan's arms stand on end. He'd never heard such a tragic mix of conviction and despair, and he couldn't figure why.

"You're not in this alone, Shepard," he said, taking a step towards her. "I'd like to help, if you'll let me."

Shepard's lip trembled, and she turned away from him. "We hit Virmire in ten hours. Get some shut eye while you can."

Watching her go, Kaidan got the sense that there was something about Virmire she wasn't saying.

**0-0-0**

Why was it always the same dream?

They'd started just after the Reapers dropped on Earth, just after she'd failed to save yet another small boy. Shepard could remember looking down on him with his model ships and thinking, _he looks so much like Devyn_. Later, when she'd found him hiding in the ducts, she'd realized that the two were nearly as dissimilar as two kids could be in appearance, but that changed nothing when the dream came.

At first, it was very clearly a park, but as time trudged forward, the trees grew larger, the undergrowth thicker, until it was unmistakeably Mindoir. When she woke up in those final moments before the assault on Earth, she couldn't have said if the little boy in the dream was Devyn or not.

She peeled her blanket off her and swung her feet over onto the ground, dropping her head into her hands. She'd hoped, after everything, that the dream would've gone. God knows she had other things to dream about, other nightmares she could have, but those were relegated to her waking hours. She couldn't walk around the Normandy without closing her eyes and picturing how it was, in the end.

Which made Kaidan's confession all the more painful.

It had only been a matter of days since she'd reclaimed her crew – in a manner of speaking – and she was already being reminded of all the little ways Kaidan had charmed her. But that was years ago, and she was a different person. He wanted the optimistic and charismatic leader from Eden Prime. She wasn't that anymore, and she'd given her heart to someone else – someone who no longer knew her, someone who no longer existed.

But _she_ remembered, and so she needed to nip this in the bud.

_That shouldn't be hard_, whispered the cold, dark voice from the corner of her mind as she stood and padded over to her desk, looking down on the datapads filled with all the information she could recompile from the Virmire mission. _All you have to do is exactly what you did before. Problem solved._

It wasn't because she loved Kaidan that she tripped over that thought – though she did, in the way of one who has spent years polishing a ghost's memory – but because of what he'd said. They were, in a lot of ways, the same. More than that, the other Shepard had obviously felt strongly towards the lieutenant, and that she would lay herself bare to him spoke volumes. But that wasn't it either, not really.

_Only your experiences and how you handle them make a person, and that no matter what, you'd always be the commander who pushed away a lieutenant from a dangerous beacon_.

She'd experienced Virmire once. She'd lived through it. It had made her tougher, and it had reminded her to cherish what she thought was sacrosanct. The old Shepard would never have let Kaidan die if she had a way to prevent it. Hell, the Shepard from a month ago wouldn't have either, if she'd had the choice. How much was she willing to give up, to save everything? Especially when, with her previous knowledge, she might have a shot at saving him.

But how much was she willing to gamble?

Aware that she was wearing little beyond regulation sleepwear, Shepard left her quarters, peeking around corners to make sure there was nobody around, before striding towards the medbay.

Dr. Chakwas was there, seated at her console as per usual, and for a second, despite the fact that this was not the SR-2, it felt like nothing had changed at all. Chakwas turned when the door opened, and Shepard couldn't miss the way the doctor froze when she saw who it was. Wrapping her arms around herself, Shepard hopped up on one of the vacant beds and swung her legs.

"Can I do something for you, Commander?" asked Chakwas.

"Am I really so different from her?"

To her credit, the doctor did not answer quickly. She thought the question over. "You're harder," said Chakwas, "and less forgiving, I think. I've seen it with soldiers who've experienced too much, lost too much."

Shepard nodded. "You're right," she said, changing the direction of the conversation, "the crew is starting to notice that I'm not the same."

Chakwas took a deep breath. "Do you think it might be in your best interest to… I don't know, pretend? To be what they need you to be right now?"

That's what Shepard wanted too. She wanted to be that person she used to be – the one who was so confident that they'd pull this all off. But that woman was dead and gone, dead with Anderson up on that floating abattoir that used to be the Citadel, dead with the fleets that burned and the bodies that floated into space and the planet that burned.

"I know it doesn't seem like it," said Shepard, "but I am being what they need. I need to make preparations, I need to lay the groundwork so that in the future, things will be… better, somehow."

"Dee," said Chakwas, sliding forward on her chair and placing a hand on Shepard's knee. "You can't be responsible for the entire galaxy. You have no way of knowing how things will turn out. If you close yourself off and things end up just as badly…?"

"Then, what? It's our time? It's destiny?" A fury that Shepard hadn't known in ages rushed through her system, and Chakwas withdrew her hand as static energy snapped between them. Shepard didn't know when she ended up on her feet, when she started pacing, but suddenly she was. "I refuse to accept that. If there is such a thing as destiny, then there'd a goddamned reason I'm here – and it's to change this."

Something like a smile played on Chakwas' face. "There's the real Shepard."

Shepard sighed and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She was already tired of this – tired of trying to convince people she was telling the truth, tired of trying to figure out what to do next, tired of lying. How was she going to make it through the next three years?

"This – this isn't just about the Reapers, is it?" asked Chakwas.

Damn her. Damn her for being so perceptive. "No," said Shepard. She exhaled slowly and leaned against a bed, her back to the doctor. "I once had to choose to save one friend at the expense of another. I – I never regretted my decision, but it always festered. Now I'm wondering – can I save both? Or is one always going to die? And what if I make the opposite choice? Can I live with myself, knowing what I know, or is it just equality? I mean, one person already got their chance to live, should the other? What if that one person is the difference in the war effort? What if…?"

"My god," whispered Chakwas, "are these the thoughts that have been keeping you up?"

"More or less," affirmed Shepard, "though you could substitute _friend_ for _planet_ and it would be just as true." She turned slightly to see Chakwas staring at the hands in her lap.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you, Commander," said the doctor. Their eyes met. "I suppose… I suppose if you think that you can save both, you're obligated to try but… If it comes down to it, you must choose whose death you can live with. I don't think equality comes into it. The entire choice is unfair – for them _and_ for you."

Shepard nodded, accepting this as true. It didn't give her an answer, but honestly, she hadn't been expecting one. It was rapidly becoming clear that she was out to sea, and that while others such as Hackett and Chakwas and, hell, even Tevos might have a flotation device to throw her way, they hadn't yet offered her a place on their boats. Maybe there was no place for her. Maybe that place was filled by the casket of the dead Shepard back on the Citadel.

"Thank you, Karin," said Shepard, pushing herself up. "I appreciate it. Really." She moved to leave.

"Dee," called Chakwas, and when Shepard turned, she said, haltingly, "Is someone going to die on Virmire?"

"I don't know," said Shepard, and hated that it was true.

* * *

_Hey - look guys! A "short" chapter!_

_I'd originally conceived of all this - and Virmire! - being in the same chapter, but decided to leave you on a mini cliffhanger instead. This chapter is brought to you by post-work exhaustion, so any mistakes are totally my fault and I will probably find them at some point in the next day and slap myself in the face.  
_

_Next chapter is Virmire, folks! Fasten your seat belts, the angst-wagon is a go! _


	8. Eight

The true beginning of our end.

**William Shakespeare, **_**A Midsummer Night's Dream**_

Wrex was pissed. No, he was more than pissed. He was well on his way into a full krogan battlerage Everything on this pitiful planet smelled of betrayal, and it was little wonder; not only was it pockmarked with salarians, but Saren was here as well. Normally, that would've been enough to foul even a planet made of flowers, but now he had to add Shepard to the mix.

She didn't understand. Humans were like mewling babes, newly come to the galaxy. They'd never seen the krogan at their glory. Technically speaking, neither had Wrex, but he'd seen the fallout from the genophage – the fighting, the grudges, the low keening in the night when the female clans lost yet another clutch of unborn, unformed children.

His shotgun blasts rang like thunder through the hollows of the rock formation that surrounded them. The mercenary part of him said that he was being a fool, that surely such noise could only draw attention to himself, but the krogan part screamed for that part to shut up, because if he didn't shoot the crabs scuttling along the bottom of the tide pools, he was going to turn his shotgun on the salarians and everyone else, and, well, as much as it pained him to say it, he wasn't sure he could take them all.

Part of him didn't care.

Shepard was huddled up with Williams and Alenko, both of whom were casting him dubious looks – like he was the one being unreasonable here! The Commander turned and looked at him too, her face unreadable. She started towards him, waving off the protests of her fellow humans and striding forward with single minded purpose. Wrex pretended not to notice, instead shooting the shell off another crab.

"Wrex," she said, and it was infuriating at how calm she was.

"Don't," he warned, rounding on her. "You can't expect me to go along with this slaughter, Shepard. They're free of the genophage! This is the best hope for my people."

"If you help these krogan, if you help Saren, if you help _Sovereign_, it won't matter," she said, obviously trying her best to be reasonable.

There was a reason why krogan were often excluded from diplomatic meetings. They had next to no patience. The fact that Shepard still had her head was a testament not only to Wrex's superior self-discipline, but also to the fact that Shepard was his friend, at least until today. "It's worth the risk to find out!"

"No," Shepard roared back, catching him by surprise. She took a step forward. "It's not! If the Reapers pour into the galaxy with ground troops already at their disposal, do you understand how ugly that's going to get?"

Now he did point his shotgun at her, because he'd never seen her like this. She was near snarling with anger, her breath coming in huge gasps that heaved her shoulders. Her retinas glowed blue with biotics, but she made no move to get her own firearm.

"I've considered you a friend," said Wrex, "but this is the future of my people we're talking about!"

"It's the future of all of us," snapped Shepard, taking yet another step forward. Wrex's finger twitched on his trigger, though it stilled as Shepard took the barrel of his gun and placed it flush with her armor right below her heart. Her anger faded suddenly, like a windstorm that disappears as soon as it's reached its apex, but there was still defiance in those eyes. "Do you know what Reapers do with their ground troops?" She didn't wait for Wrex to answer, but clambered into her tirade. "They change them. Those husks we keep finding? The ones that used to be human? Just you wait. What sort of monstrosities do you think they could cook up with krogan regenerative abilities? You want to save your people? This won't do it. This will just give them an art farm to test on before they move their experiments to Tuchanka."

"You're lying," said Wrex, butting her with his shotgun. "How would you even know that?"

"Do it," said Shepard, gesturing to the gun with her chin. Wrex tried not to let his surprise show on his face. "What are you waiting for, Wrex? I'm a liar and a betrayer, clearly. Why haven't you shot me yet?"

That was a good question, and one didn't have an easy answer for. "What game are you playing, Shepard?"

"A simple one," said Shepard, "with only one rule: we beat the Reapers or we die. The galaxy is what's at stake here. If you're willing to bet your people, and mine, and all the trillions of lives in the galaxy on this – on the chance that the krogan can, _maybe_, elude the Reapers long enough to regain some of their glory, on the chance that these krogan of Saren's, _maybe_, aren't indoctrinated like Benezia, on the chance that I'm full of shit – then shoot me." When he did nothing, she jut out her chin. "Do it. I might even thank you."

Shepard had always been ballsy. She'd stared down guns and biotics and aliens of all shapes and sizes. She'd talked her way out of a hell of a lot… But he'd never seen her look so, so _hard_. Wrex couldn't even tell if she was just that confident that he wouldn't shoot, or if she didn't care – such was the flat, defiant look on her face. His trigger finger twitched again. He had all the power in this situation. He could shoot her, and without her, he'd have a better chance of taking down the others. But he hadn't claimed it, hadn't earned it – he'd been given it by Shepard.

And somehow he realized what her gesture really meant. She was putting everything she had on the line, trusting him with the most important thing she had. It wasn't her life – Shepard, like him, knew that death could come at any time, and hell, it might beat the alternative if what she was saying about the Reapers and the Protheans were true. What she was risking (at least in her mind) was her people. She was trusting him with her people, with all of their peoples. If he pulled the trigger right now, what would happen? He might make it off this planet, he might re-establish the krogan, but then there would be nobody to stop Saren, to stop Sovereign.

If she was telling the truth. _If_.

He lowered his gun, and though the echo of his rage still rumbled lowly in his belly, he holstered it. "I'm going to trust you on this Shepard," he said. "But when we find Saren, I want his head."

Shepard nodded and let out a deep breath, all defiance gone, replaced with relief and something else. She moved forward and clasped his arm. "I promise," she whispered, so low he almost couldn't hear her, "that I will find a way to cure the genophage for you, Wrex. You have my word."

And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back towards the salarian captain. Alenko and Williams ran up to her, but she shrugged them off and wandered off alone, her body tense.

**0-0-0**

Kirrahe was huddled around his omni-tool when she came to find him. He glanced up and immediately shut off his tool, probably as a result of STG training. Shepard chose not to take it personally. This was, after all, the man who had offered to defy his superiors to help her with the Reapers. And although she knew him – perhaps not well, but enough to gauge his moral fibre (which was, at this point, doing somewhat better than her own) – he didn't know her. As far as she knew, he hadn't communicated with the Council since her… appearance, but she couldn't be sure.

"Commander," he greeted. "I was just finalizing the last components of the plan."

Shepard found herself at a loss for the words for the first time in what felt like forever. Part of her – a large part – wanted to just blurt out the truth, to bully him into listening to her and have him take it up with the Council later. That small centre that control reason, however, was working hard to counter that. _This is a delicate mission_, it said, _and you need to earn your trust with Kirrahe. He's not the sort to blindly follow._

"Good," she said, and it sounded faint even to her ears. There was a stool to her right and she plunked down on it with a deep breath. "Tell it to me."

The plan was exactly as she remembered, and as she closed her eyes to listen, all the details of that day three years ago came rushing back. She remembered how her lips had gotten chapped and salt-licked from running through the Virmire surf. She remembered that anvil of fear that had settled in the bottom of her gut as she realized that Sovereign was a Reaper. She remembered slamming her fists in despair and frustration when having to choose between Kaidan and Ash, and the numb that followed. She remembered the sensors picking up the massive explosion and the tears in her bunk that night.

Things were rapidly moving outside her control, and she didn't like it. Through most of her military career, she'd been an optimist, surging forward with purpose and confidence. What had Ash said to her once? _Cynical is what an optimist calls a realist_. She'd scoffed it off at the time, but now… now she was getting to see that perhaps Ash had been right all along.

That didn't mean she was willing to give up on today.

"Commander?" interrupted Kirrahe. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said, and it was a lie. She licked her lips and offered him a grim smile. "So we split into teams. I'll be infiltration – an irony, considering it's what your people are trained for, and I'm more like a bull in a china shop – and everyone else will handle the frontal assault under your command. We place the bomb, board the _Normandy_, and get the hell out of dodge."

Kirrahe blinked at her. "I wouldn't have put it so colourfully, but yes, that is the plan."

"May I make one alteration?"

He didn't look like he wanted to agree, which is why he said, "And what would that be?"

Shepard had tried hard over the past forty-eight hours to figure out some way to save not only Kaidan and Ash (if she could) but also to prove that the Reapers were real and a threat. Seemed like a lot to pack into one mission, and it was, but somehow it still paled in comparison to the hours proceeding virtually any op during the Reaper war. Didn't make it easy, but it meant that she wouldn't be a blubbering mess on the field either. Hopefully.

"I need you to be part of my infiltration squad," she said.

The words hovered in the air like smoke. The shock of them drifted away after a few seconds of silence. "I'm afraid I don't understand," said Kirrahe. "You're asking me to abandon my command to come with you, because…?"

Here it was. Double or nothing. "Have you ever heard of the Reapers, Captain?"

He frowned. "Some Prothean myth or the like?"

Standing, Shepard started to pace. "They're not a myth. They're real. I encountered a damaged beacon on Eden Prime that showed me the Prothean extinction. They didn't vanish, Captain – they were wiped out."

"Even were that true," said Kirrahe, and Shepard noted his careful lack of opinion, "I hardly see why that necessitates my placement in your squad."

"Because Saren is working with the Reapers," said Shepard, fully aware of how ridiculous this would sound. For years, she'd been saying the same thing, and for years, she'd gotten the same disbelieving look. Even on the SR-2, many of the squad she'd assembled to combat the Collectors hadn't quite believed her ramblings about ancient sentient machines… until they saw the Collector base.

Sometimes, words weren't enough. Sometimes, you needed to see a thing with your own eyes.

"Why?" asked Kirrahe, and it was such an unexpected question that Shepard struggled to answer quickly.

"He thinks that by helping them, he will save us," said Shepard, scourging her brain to find Saren's exact words on this day three years ago, and failing. She ran her hands down her face. "Listen, I know how absurd this sounds, trust me. I sound like a lunatic, but it's true, and if you come with me today, I can prove it to you."

"You're asking me to risk the lives of my men in order to indulge an unlikely fantasy?" asked Kirrahe.

"I'm asking you to risk the lives of your men on the off-chance that I've stumbled onto something that threatens the survival of us all," said Shepard, and though she was doing her best to stay calm, heat cracked her voice. "If I were really that crazy, do you think the Council would let me out here? I've told them everything I've told you and more."

They'd reached a fork in the road. If he declined to come with her, well, there was nothing she could do about that. But she prayed he wouldn't. Even if… Even if someone ended up dying today, even if it hurt like hell, if she could just manage to get the rest of the galaxy to _listen_, then maybe she could live with it for a second time. Maybe it would seem the sacrifice seem worthwhile.

Truth be told, she doubted it, but it was the only quasi-comforting thought she had right now.

Just when she was about to give up, Kirrahe nodded once. "I will come with you, Commander," he said, "but I'm going to have to make a request as well."

In three years, Shepard had seen countless people die. She'd lost friends. She'd watched Earth burn and the fleets of every race in the galaxy explode and fall like stars. But now, on this spit of a planet in the middle of nowhere, at the beginning of a war people couldn't yet see, Shepard was dwarfed by her own sense of helplessness in the face of something that seemed unshakeably immutable.

**0-0-0**

Shepard had been on edge all morning. Kaidan tried not to link it back to their conversation hours previous, but it was hard – her words still jangled around in his head. A few days ago, he'd been praying that she'd survive, not only because a galaxy without Shepard would be left increasingly vulnerable, but because he wanted a chance to figure out this thing between them, whatever it ended up being. Now, though, it seemed like she was pulling away and he couldn't figure out why.

It was partly Saren, he knew, but there was something more. Something deeper. He saw it in her eyes as he and Wrex loaded into the mako with her: fear.

So when she'd taken Wrex's gun and pointed it at herself, Kaidan had felt his fingers tingle and felt the eezo sludge through his nervous system. Beside him, Ash readied her rifle and they both waited. The only reason he wasn't running towards them was because Shepard had given them an order to stand their ground, to not interfere. After Wrex had finally stood down, she'd stalked past them, dismissing them with the wave of her hand before disappearing to talk to the salarian captain.

Damn it, this wasn't like her. Sure, she did tend to wade into deeper waters than she was expecting, but she was always smart about it. Now… Now Kaidan got the feeling that there was something more than just stopping Saren behind her actions, more than just stopping the Reapers. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell was on that beacon.

"Okay, I'm starting to get a little worried," said Ash from beside him. She had her arms crossed, and a frown was tugging at the edges of her face. "Yeah, yeah, Shepards's under stress, but that stint with Wrex… I don't know, LT. Whatever's coming must be bad for her to take stupid risks like that."

"She trusts Wrex," said Kaidan, though his words were more confident than he felt. "She knew he wouldn't do anything."

"Maybe the Commander needs to be a little less trusting," said Ash, eyes dropping on various alien figures in turn.

"I know you don't totally trust aliens Ash, and I get it," said Kaidan, "but they're just people, like you and me. They don't have some ulterior motive here. We all just want to want to stop Saren."

Ash made a noncommittal sound. "That's the claim." She ran a hand over her hair. "Listen, Kaidan, I heard something that…"

She broke off when Shepard strode out of the makeshift shelter and onto the beach, holding up her hand to block the sunlight and squinting in their direction. Captain Kirrahe came right after her, and though Kaidan hadn't been in the company of many salarians, he noticed that the man appeared troubled. Shepard moved towards them, the Captain on her heels.

"Here's the plan," she said without preamble. "The Captain and his men can rig a bomb. Saren's labs are too well fortified to drop it from atmo, so three salarian teams are going to draw enemy fire while I take a fourth team to infiltrate and clear out the facility. We'll all meet at this rendezvous site." Her omni-tool flared as she sent the information to both he and Ash. She hesitated only briefly. "The Captain also has a request."

"Your Commander has requested that I be part of her infiltration team," said Kirrahe, sounding less than pleased at the prospect. "As such, I'm going to need one of you to coordinate the assault teams."

"I volunteer," said Kaidan immediately. He hadn't planned on blurting it out, and he looked to Shepard. She wasn't looking at anyone though. She was hugging herself, eyes pasted to the ground.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on LT," said Ash. "You're better equipped to arm that bomb. I'll head out with the salarians."

Normally, he and Ash got on fine, but for whatever reason, her attitude rankled right now. Maybe it was the fact that Shepard wasn't looking at anyone, maybe it was her standoff with Wrex, or maybe it was that fear he saw earlier, but Kaidan was determined to prove that he was fully capable of handling himself no matter the situation – and, by extension, helping Shepard with whatever was coming.

"With all due respect, Chief," he said, "that's not your call."

"Why is it that whenever someone says, _with all due respect_, what they really mean is, _kiss my ass_?" wondered Ash, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

Kaidan opened his mouth to bark back a reply but Shepard beat him to it. "Enough," she snapped. "Ash, you're with the assault teams. Kaidan, you're on the nuke." Biting down his frustration, Kaidan nodded.

"Well, now that that's settled, I must see to my men. Be ready to move out," said Kirrahe. He inclined his head towards Shepard and was gone, and Kaidan couldn't shake the feeling that he was running away.

"This is it, then," said Ash, and despite the fact that only moments before she'd been lobbying to go, she now sounded hesitant. Kadian felt his annoyance slip.

"Ash," said Shepard, voice low and urgent as she clasped the other woman's arm. "You stay off the AA towers, you hear me? There's only one way up and one way down. Don't get caught chasing the enemy. Try and circle around the rendezvous, and choose easily defensible positions on the ground. When my team gets close – and you'll be able to tell, trust me – you beeline it for pickup. Leave the AA guns to me. I'll disable them from elsewhere."

Ash blinked a few times, absorbing the information. "Aye aye, ma'am," she said slowly.

Shepard held onto Ash's arm for a few seconds too long, and if both women hadn't been wearing armour, Ash probably would've had bruises in a couple hours. "You'll make me proud, I know it," said Shepard, dropping her hands to her sides. She jerked her head. "Now get going and kick some ass."

"Thank you, skipper," said Ash, "I will." With one last tight look at Kaidan, she jogged off to meet with the salaraians.

Shepard watched her go and said nothing. After a deep breath, she turned to Kaidan. "Let's get this makeshift bomb onto the _Normandy_, shall we?"

It took the two of them to carry it, and even then it was a strain – or at least it was for Kaidan. It was a good thing that Shepard's strength – of character, as well as of body – was what had drawn him to her in the first place, or he might've felt a tad emasculated. She carried her half like it was the lightest thing the world, whereas he struggled to maintain an even breath, casting glances in her direction. Even when they finally set it down in the cargo bay, she merely stood with her hands on her hips and looked out onto the sandy beaches of Virmire.

"This is where the war starts, you know," she said, and there it was again, under that careful, casual veneer – there was the fear.

"You worried, ma'am?" he asked.

She made a noncommittal sound, running her tongue over her teeth. "This is part of being a soldier," she said. "Knowing the risks and having to do the job anyways. It's what I signed up for all those years ago."

A memory pinged in Kaidan's brain. He came to stand next to her, staring out at Virmire even though he'd rather be staring at her. "You said," he started, hesitant, "back in the hospital… I guess you wouldn't remember, though."

"What did I say?" she asked, sparing him a fleeting glance.

"You said that you hadn't always wanted to be a soldier," he said, and from the way her eyes widened and her breathing stopped, he figured he'd really done it this time. Normally, this would be standard chatter for getting to know someone you were interested in. Of course, normally you wouldn't be trying to get closer to your CO, and normally your CO wouldn't have bogeymen that would render most normal people into weeping wrecks.

Some internal debate waged in her brain. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I don't have that memory. For me to tell you… I've only ever told one other person that."

"Who?" said Kaidan, before his brain could catch up to his mouth. Catching himself, he hurried to add, "You don't have to answer that, ma'am."

"It was a man I loved," said Shepard, with such wistfulness and such regret that every word was cracked and blackened. Her eyes trailed Garrus as he walked towards Tali, and rested on the two aliens. "A teacher. I wanted to be a teacher."

A strong wind would've blown Kaidan away at that instant. He turned to look at her – to really look at her, from her shaved head, to her weary eyes, to the confident set of her shoulders. Her eyes never left the beach. How many times had they discussed how perfect a soldier Shepard was? How she seemed to thrive on the battlefield? To think that in a different life, those hands that were so adept at killing would've been gently guiding children, holding their hands, correcting their mistakes… Of course, this dream came before she found out she was biotic. Hard to say whether it would've been viable, what with the stigma against human biotics. But somehow, that didn't matter.

It was like Kaidan was peering back in time, back to a sixteen year old Shepard who had no idea what was awaiting her. And it broke his heart.

"I think you would've been good at it," he confessed.

Shepard snorted softly, but moved closer to him. She studied his face intently, as she'd done after Noveria, her hands cupping the contours of his jaw. Then, before he could process what was happening, her lips were on his, gently but firmly. He'd just gotten his bearings and was moving to embrace her when she pulled away, eyes first on the ground and then once again out the hangar door.

"I'm sorry, Kaidan. That was unfair," she said. "Nothing's changed. I just… I'll see you at the rendezvous site. Make sure the bomb is prepped."

Kaidan wanted to call out to her, really, he did, but he couldn't imagine what would happen after that. It was highly unlikely that they'd fall into each other's arms – they just weren't the type, either of them. And she'd said nothing had changed, but she'd said this right after _kissing him_. He should've felt giddy, ecstactic, something, but instead all he could feel was apprehensive. Instead of those drunken butterflies of new love, he was inhabited by a low thrum of anxiety.

He waited for her to look back, but she never did.

**0-0-0**

Garrus wasn't entirely certain why Shepard chose him to come along on this mission. Wrex had near exploded when she told him to wait on the ship, mollified only when the salarians said that there'd been no confirmation of Saren's presence and when Shepard backed them. It was an amazing thing, to see a human woman stop an angry krogan, and it reminded Garrus of the reason he wanted to join Shepard to begin with: she always managed the impossible.

The influx of guilt gnawed on his insides as he took notes on her behavior. Should he tell the Councillor about the incident with Wrex? Should he mention how Shepard had teetered on the edge of death, and that she did so voluntarily? More voluntarily than usual? It certainly didn't speak to pro-human zealotry, but then, maybe it just went over his head.

They – he, Shepard and Kirrahe – managed to infiltrate the base with virtually no trouble except once on a platform leading to the main facility. Shepar was forced to duck into cover as three more came into the fray. She glowed blue with biotics but the fire on her was constant. Kirrahe opened fire while Garrus struggled to get in position to sabotage the lot of them. Rolling from one cover to the other, he peeked around and found he couldn't get a clear shot at the any geth's chest cavity.

"What the hell are you doing, Garrus?" bellowed Shepard. "Stop trying to be a damned technician and do what you're good at – shoot them in the goddamned flashlights!"

Pride stung, Garrus reached for his rifle instead only to see Shepard leap out of cover, throw a singularity between the geth, hoisting them all up in the air. With a wave of her arm, a cascade of electricity careened towards the geth, sending them spiralling outwards in explosive chunks.

"Impressive, Commander," said Kirrahe.

Shepard said nothing. She looked at Garrus like she was about to say something, and for one horrifying moment he thought he was about to get a lecture, but she simply turned and carried on. From then on, something changed. He hadn't even realized Shepard had been providing him with openings, had been carefully keeping out of his way until she stopped. It was unnerving to know, and he was engulfed by some emotion he couldn't quite name at the thought that he'd somehow let her down. This was, after all, his first mission with Shepard after her stint in the hospital.

And he could see what Williams had been going on about. With that slight shift, Shepard became a one woman powerhouse, using biotics and weapons in turn. When a krogan charged her, she detonated her barrier, sending the alien staggering backwards, before pulling the hostile into the air and riddling him with bullets until his organs floated around him, like some bloody undersea creature caught in a mass effect field of its own.

Shepard had always been efficient, but this… What had Williams said? _Almost ruthless?_ Well, from where Garrus was standing, that seemed as good an assessment as any.

They cleared their way through the base, and while Garrus lost track of where they were through the dizzying maze of corridors and rooms, Shepard had an uncanny sense of direction. Kirrahe followed her with a thoughtful expression, obviously gathering data to report back to the Council on the newest Spectre. Garrus was almost annoyed at the thought, but allowed that that would make him a damned hypocrite.

They came to a set of containment cells, and Shepard started to walk past them without a second glance. It was Kirrahe who stopped short, jogging forward and saying, "What have they done to them?"

It was then that Garrus looked, really looked, at the men contained within. They were staring blankly at the walls, or pacing. One, secluded on his own, kept screaming at them to let him out, but he was fidgeting, his eyes blinking out of sync. Kirrahe went to open the lock, but Shepard grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly away.

"Don't," she said.

Kirrahe frowned. "These are my men, Commander. If I can give them medical attention, it might improve our odds."

Shepard shook her head. "They're a lost cause, Captain. They've been indoctrinated. There's nothing you can do. You set them free now, and you might as well put a bullet in your head."

Indoctrinated? Garrus carefully took in the shifty behavior of the salarians. Had Benezia been like this? Suddenly, he was extremely thankful Liara wasn't here to see this. The thought of your family turning into this… It wasn't something he'd wish on anyone.

"Indoctrinated?" echoed Kirrahe, giving voice to Garrus' question. He glanced back at his men.

"It's hard to explain, but please believe me when I say that you can't help them," said Shepard, her voice soft over a steel underlay. "We need to finish the mission, agreed?"

Kirrahe sighed. "Agreed."

Garrus had served with the turian military for years. He knew what it was to leave a soldier behind, but it never got any easier. Despite the fact that these salarians were clearly out of their minds, he couldn't help but take one last look at them before they left the room. As the door closed behind him, he could still hear one of them screaming. If this bothered Kirrahe, he didn't let it show.

They travelled a few more corridors, taking out geth along the way, before they ended up in another cell block. This time, one of the salarians rushed up to the glass, his hands splayed flat. "Captain!" he said, his relief like a wave.

"Imness!" said Kirrahe, striding forward. There was a wariness that hadn't been there before. "Status report?"

"Got captured by Saren's forces, sir," said Imness. "They've been doing experiments on us, testing out indoctrination. I was left alone as a control subject. I still have my senses, though I wish I didn't. I watched our men get reduced to mindless husks. Others… others died during the experiments."

"You did well, Lieutenant," said Kirrahe. "We're about to destroy this base. Are you fit for battle?"

"Give me a weapon, sir," said Imness, "and I will do what's necessary."

"No," said Shepard, coming to stand in front of the lock to the door. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you don't know whether or not he's been compromised."

"Shepard," said Garrus, "he seems fine."

The Commander didn't waver even for a second. He'd never seen her face so… hard, so devoid of feeling. It was the face of a much older soldier. Garrus could remember old Cos – veterans of dozens, maybe hundreds of battles – with the same expression. It didn't seem to belong on Shepard's face.

"So did Benezia," said Shepard tightly, "and so does Saren. That's how they trick you. They indoctrinate sleeper agents, make them seem like themselves, then put them in positions of power where they can learn all your secrets. If this man is indoctrinated, and he goes back to STG and becomes someone of importance, what do you think is going to happen when the Reapers come through? He won't be the soldier you know any more." She took a deep breath.

"I'm not indoctrinated!" protested Imness.

"That's the thing," whispered Shepard, "people don't realize it until it's too late. Then you're left fighting the enemy within as well as the enemy without."

"Shepard, my people know how to contain potentially problematic agents," said Kirrahe.

"And if he turns on us during the fight?" demanded Shepard.

"I won't!" said Imness.

The salarian captain wavered, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. The mission must take priority."

"Sir," said the salarian, "please…! Don't leave me here!"

Somehow, Imness' following silence was worse than the screaming from earlier. Kirrahe left the room first, then Garrus, then Shepard. Garrus leaned over to whisper, "Shepard, are you sure about this?"

She stared at him, swallowing and licking her lips. "The cold calculus of war, Garrus. A good friend of mine once taught me what that meant." She didn't elaborate further before pushing forward. Kirrahe and Garrus were left to follow, and Kirrahe was more determined than ever – a coping mechanism, probably.

They came into a room, some sort of office, and Shepard lowered her gun when she found it empty. If he didn't know any better, Garrus would've said she was… confused? She turned to Kirrahe, "Any chance you can slice a lock?"

Kirrahe nodded, holstering his pistol and striding forward. Within seconds, the lock was open, and Garrus made a mental note to never give an STG agent a reason to suspect him. Very little was said as they took the elevator upstairs, but Shepard thrummed with nervous energy, running her tongue over her lips. A fine sheen of sweat clung to her forehead, and Garrus didn't know whether it was the planet's humidity or her own physical exertion or what. He still found it weird that humans leaked to cool themselves off.

Garrus stopped short as he saw the beacon at the bottom, and even Shepard hesitated slightly before approaching it. She reached out a hand, then paused, glancing back at Kirrahe. "I would capture this all on vid, if I were you. Don't stop until we leave this room. I need the Council to see."

Omni-tool flaring to life, Kirrahe nodded, suspicious. For his part, Garrus was confused and alarmed.

Hand extended, Shepard's body was hoisted into the air and her face contorted into a grimace of pain. Was this what had happened on Eden Prime? Looking at Shepard, it was no wonder she'd wound up in the hospital. Then, as suddenly as it had started, she dropped, landing on all fours. Garrus moved to help her up, and she accepted his hand, swaying as she stood with one hand pushed to her forehead.

"I forgot how painful that was," she said.

"Are you going to be okay, Shepard?" asked Garrus. "The last time you encountered a Prothean beacon, it didn't end well."

"Ready to roll," she said by way of denial, though Garrus had no idea what rolling had to do with anything. She marked up the ramp, Garrus following, and Kirrahe behind, his omni-tool still alight.

That was when everything changed.

**0-0-0**

Ash was trying really hard to keep Shepard's orders in mind, but it was hard when there were damned flashlights shooting at her from every direction. She wasn't used to having command of this many soldiers, and although she'd volunteered for the job (and been given it by Shepard), under the adrenaline, under the steely determination, her heart fluttered like a butterfly caught in a jar.

Shepard had kept her word and disabled the AA guns, allowing Ash and to coordinate her teams around the rendezvous point. She hadn't ended up on the tower, but the tower with its one exit was looking pretty sweet right about now. One was one more than they had right now. The problem was, the geth were too many and they'd sabotaged the doors to either side; they couldn't close the one and couldn't open the other for escape.

They were caught in a kill zone – literally backed into a corner. They would've been fine – they'd taken out a large chunk of the geth forces on their way in, and a few of the salarians were nothing if not tech savvy – except that whatever the hell Shepard had done had triggered a large influx of geth. Geth that were inconveniently bearing down on their position, and the geth had locked out all hacking attempts. Since nobody on her team had a key card, Ash was going to die fifty meters from the rendezvous point, and it was making her grumpy.

Ash caught a spray of green blood on her helmet as the soldier next to her was riddled, and she ducked beneath cover to wipe it off. Well, if she had to die, at least she'd die knowing that Kaidan managed to get the stupid bomb in position.

"Ash," said Shepard over the comm, "talk to me."

"Can't talk now, ma'am," said Ash, leaning out to fire. "Working on staying alive."

"Where are you? Why aren't you at the rendezvous?"

"Doesn't matter," said Ash, "you just get that bomb prepped."

"Williams," started Shepard.

"Incoming!" yelled one of the salarians, and Ash raised her weapon towards the geth juggernaut that was flanking her. She fired, taking out the thing's shields, but still it rounded on her, sabotaging her gun so that it smoked in her hands. With a curse, Ash rolled out of the way of a missile, going for her pistol, but she didn't have the chance to use it. There was a flare of blue light, and the geth was sent careening into the wall.

An asari stood behind it, dressed in a lab coat and panting. When she saw Ash, her eyes welled up. "Oh, thank the goddess," she said, ambling forward. "We need to get out of here!"

"Get the hell down," hissed Ash, not lowering her weapon one inch.

"My name is Rana Thanoptis," said the asari, crouching in cover next to Ash, seemingly unfazed by the gun pointed in her direction. "Saren hired me months ago to work on neuropathology research. I never knew why, but then geth started showing up and – and…" The woman looked like she was about to pass out. "Please. You've got to help me."

"You picked a shitty boss," said Ash.

A geth hopper clung to the ceiling above them, the red light of its scope coming to rest on Rana's chest. Ash pushed her out of the way, a crate exploding behind them. The salarians shot the thing to the ground, and Ash picked herself off the asari, who was keening like a kid.

"Listen, you want me to help you?" asked Ash. "You've got to prove you're trustworthy. If you really work here, open that goddamned door behind us!"

Rana nodded too quickly and scrambled back to the console. Ash gestured to her men to provide covering fire, and the sounds of gunfire drowned out everything else. The door behind them slid open, showing the awaiting _Normandy _in the distance.

"Go!" yelled Ash, ushering her men through before following at a sprint, jumping over a crate and ducking behind it as another missile came her way.

And suddenly, Shepard was beside her, face grim. Even though they were in the middle of a firefight, Shepard stared Ash down. "You make sure that no geth get near this bomb, you hear? You guard Kaidan, and you watch yourself. If anything happens to either of you, I swear to God, I will kill you both."

"Thought you didn't believe," said Ash, her brain three steps behind her mouth.

"I don't," said Shepard.

There was this palpable foreboding that descended between them. Ash mirrored Shepard's actions from earlier, grabbing the Commander's arm. "Shepard, what are you planning?"

"I've lost too many people," said Shepard, "I won't let it start here."

A million thoughts flew through Ash's head. She wanted to call Shepard crazy, she wanted to ask who she'd lost, what _it_ was and how _it_ was going to start here, but the Commander suddenly lit up like the Fourth of July. "You get everyone on board, Ash. I know you can do it."

And then, in a flash of blue, Shepard was gone. From beyond the cover, in the space Ash and her teams had just vacated, came the low thump of a collision. Ash peeked over her cover in time to see Shepard slam her hand into the ground, creating a crater that spiderwebbed outwards, her body exploding with blue energy that sent the geth flying, then crumbling to the ground. A prime approached from Shepard's left, and Ash made to cry out, but Shepard saw it and in a blur of blue, the prime was hurled to the ground. This time when Shepard slammed down her hand, it was in the middle of the thing's chest, and it exploded outwards into so many pieces.

"Holy shit," Ash whispered to herself, and then remembering her orders, turned to find Kaidan. A geth caught him from behind, ripping through his shields and the LT stumbled. Turning, he used his biotics to throw the few geth against the walls of the complex, before yelling, "The bomb is armed. Everybody on the ship. We've got two minutes!"

Jumping out of cover, Ash made a beeline for him, grabbing his arm and looping it over her shoulder. She started to drag him towards the ship. "Come on, LT, time to go," she said, taking note of the salarians jogging towards the ship.

"Wait," he said, pulling against her, "where's Shepard?"

Ash didn't know what to say, so she just thrust her chin in the direction they'd come from. A large biotic detonation sent crates flying, and from among them, Shepard ran out like some Valkyrie out of legend, whipping out her shotgun and shooting a geth's head off. Though meters away, she met their eyes and gestured towards the ship.

Then she was knocked backwards towards the bomb. On a floating platform, Saren descended like something out of science fiction, glowing with biotics of his own.

"I'm not leaving her," said Kaidan, and Ash had never heard him sound so determined. He wrenched his arm from her grasp and started forward, lurching from the severity of his wound.

"She ordered us on the ship!"

"And if she dies, where are we then?" he demanded, and, well, he had a point.

She nodded in assent, and they both started forward, only as Saren descended on Shepard, and they seemed to be having a little chat. Ash wanted to tell the Commander that this was hardly the time for a tea party with the enemy, but she was left trying to support Kaidan as he attempted to hobble his way over to the fight. Saren picked Shepard up by the throat, her fist burned blue and she blasted the turian backwards. Picking up her shotgun, she, well, rushed at them, covering the space in a few seconds and screaming, "I told you both to get on the fucking ship!"

All but pushing them aboard the ship, Shepard tapped her ear bud, "Get us out of here now, Joker!"

The door started to close, but not before Saren got up and let loose a biotic something or other in their direction. Kaidan surged forward, blocking Shepard with a wall of biotics and not for the first time, Ash made a mental note to get some sort of biotic dictionary so she could know what the hell to call all this superpower shit that was going on around her.

As the cargo bay door sealed shut, Shepard fell to her knees, eyes wide and watering. "I did it," she whispered. There was an expression on her face that scared Ash more than anything planetside had. "I changed it."

Kaidan crouched in front of her, putting his hands on Shepard's shoulders. "Hey – are you okay? I've never seen a human being use biotics like that. You must be totally burned out." One of his thumbs grazed the side of Shepard's neck, smoothing over the red lines that descended from the back of the Commander's skull. The other traced faint – were those cuts? why weren't they bleeding? – that were sprinkled across one of her cheeks. It was such an intimate gesture that Ash felt like a voyeur, except that the adoration painted on the LT's face was absent from Shepard's. She was looking beyond, into the cargo bay.

"Who's that?" she asked, and Ash turned to see the asari sitting on the ground, arms around her knees.

"Rana something," said Ash. "She helped us escape. Apparently she didn't read the contract carefully enough before she started. "

At once, Shepard was on her feet, moving into the shuttle bay. Ash followed, jogging to keep up, and when Rana caught sight of her, a hesitant smile crossed her face.

Or, at least, it did until her brains were all over the floor.

In any normal circumstances, there would be screaming. Yelling. Chaos. But the cargo bay was full of soldiers – soldiers who's just seen death up close and personal – and so instead there was silence as all eyes turned to Shepard. Whatever relief she'd shown had faded away, leaving a grim stoicism. She slowly lowered her weapon.

"Get a body bag," said the Commander. "We'll keep her in the medbay until we can pass her off to her people."

"Jesus," said Ash, "Commander, she was a civilian!"

"She was indoctrinated," said Shepard.

That's when the elevator door opened and Doctor Chakwas entered, at first quickly and then, seeing the body, more slowly. She glanced from the body to Shepard and her face became very serious. "What happened?"

"I had to kill her," said Shepard, and to the doctor it sounded almost like an apology.

Rather than asking any questions at all, Chakwas' mouth simply vanished and she offered a tight nod. She brushed passed Shepard and then over to Kaidan, who was still kneeling where he'd been left, but looking a little greyer. She crouched in front of him, and the two exchanged words. Kaidan shook his head, then said something and gestured at Shepard. When Chakwas stood, she said, "Somebody help me get Kaidan to the medbay."

Ash stepped forward, doing as she had done on Virmire and looping his arm around her. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, though she didn't much feel like it. As they wandered to the elevator, Shepard was still standing in the centre of the cargo bay, contemplating the corpse.

"You should come as well," said Chakwas. "I hear you let off a pretty impressive biotic display. We'll need to replenish your electrolytes."

"Not necessary," said Shepard, and somehow, it was a dismissal.

"Shepard," said Kaidan, "come on. We both know how important it is."

She turned and looked at the LT for the first time, and some resistance in her seemed to falter. Was that love? Ash didn't think so. She couldn't help but contrast Kaidan's complete concern for Shepard with Shepard's standoffish nature. What had changed? A few weeks ago, she could've sworn Shepard was already choosing baby names and the colour of the drapery.

Of course, a few weeks ago, Sovereign hadn't been a Reaper. Jesus.

"I'll be up in a bit," said Shepard. "I need to clean up and talk to Kirrahe first."

It sounded like the empty promise a parent would make a child, and that left Ash wondering exactly what sort of head space the Commander had entered. Looking down at the corpse of the asari, Ash was just sure she didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.

**0-0-0**

Saren sat with his head in his hands, seething with anger. He could feel the nanites of Reaper technology repairing the damage done to him by Shepard, but that did little to appease the gnawing in his gut. How had one organic being defeated the symbiosis between himself and the Reapers? It was unfathomable. If not for Shepard, his plan would be coming along without any interference. He'd never liked humans – he saw them for the backstabbing vermin they were back in the war – but he found himself loathing Shepard. She was threatening to ruin everything.

The part of him that was connected to Sovereign felt something else entirely. If Sovereign had been organic, Saren might even have called it curiosity, but that word was too evocative of innocence. No, Sovereign saw Shepard as an obstacle, yes, but the machine also wondered what miraculous things Shepard could do while under the control of the Reapers.

There's been some sort of interchange between Shepard and Sovereign on Virmire. The details had been kept from him, but Saren knew from the way that Sovereign had backpedalled that something massive had happened. For a moment, the machine had felt something almost like… alarm.

Of course, that was sheer stupidity. A machine could not be alarmed by one human woman. The Reapers were vast and infinite and entirely unknowable – that was the reason Saren had joined them in the first place. It would be a war against enemies that didn't get tired, that didn't get hungry, that didn't feel fear. The only way the galaxy would survive would be if he joined up with them. He knew that. Sovereign had shown him that.

But he couldn't forget what Shepard had said on Virmire. Though their confrontation had been short – and though Saren was displeased it hadn't ended with him wringing the life out of her scrawny body – she'd said some things that left him uneasy.

"Do not sacrifice everything for the sake of petty freedoms," he'd said, willing her to understand. "The Protheans tried to fight, and they were utterly destroyed."

"Is that what your master has been telling you?" retorted Shepard.

Sovereign's presence had become more than a lingering shadow in his mind, then, and there was a deep vibration from inside his brain as Sovereign made him say, "What do you mean?"

And, damn her, Shepard had smirked, "Sounds like there's trouble in paradise, Saren. Shouldn't be surprising. You're only Sovereign's puppet."

"Sovereign needs me!" snarled Saren. "If I find the Conduit, I've been promised a reprieve from the inevitable!"

"He's lying to you," shouted Shepard. "Manipulating your thoughts so that you believe what he wants you to believe. Can't you see that?"

_No_, whispered his mind, _it's not true_. But he wasn't sure if that was his own mind or Sovereign's influence. Damn Shepard! She was making him second guess himself when he was close, so close. He would not be swayed by the bluffs of one human who had no idea what she was talking about. What would she know of the Reapers, anyways? Everything she knew was cobbled together based on scraps. Saren knew the Reapers better, knew what they were capable of, and knew that working with them was their only hope.

Despite himself, however, he found himself pulling up every file he could dig up about Shepard. As he scanned the screen, Sovereign was there, like a possessive parent, reading over his shoulder.

* * *

_A few notes:_

_1) I doubt I will ever fully love this chapter. I like it, it's okay, but I wouldn't date it or marry it. This chapter is securely in that awkward more-than-acquaintances-less-than-friends zone. _

_2) This chapter is dedicated to the vanguard class. I was replaying a few ME3 bits, and I remembered how much they kicked ass! Nova all the things! _

_3) Spot the movie parallel that was totally unintentional but once I saw it, I couldn't ignore it. _

_4) I'm working 6 day weeks. Updating might get a little dicey. _


End file.
